Prophets for Dummies: Apocalypse 101
by forever21lupus
Summary: Danielle's back and ready to fight. Though, going up against Lucifer himself might be a little too much. But, with Sam and Dean there to train her and a certain angel who's becoming more intriguing by the day, how horrible could it be? Sequel to "Guide to Everything Supernatural"
1. Preface

**Prologue**

"_The Lord your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you, from your brothers – it is to him you shall listen – " Deuteronomy 18:15_

* * *

Danielle sat bolt upright, trembling and covered with sweat. She panted for air, muscles tense. It took her a second to realize that she was in her bedroom, not in some destroyed factory site. She relaxed, laying back down and staring at the ceiling.

Not for the first time, she _really_ disliked being a prophet.

Danielle laid in her parents' bed for who-knows-how-long, trying to muster the strength to get up. She despised the morning with all of her being; it was always so quiet in the house. Normally, by the time Danielle woke up, the house was a mess. Sisters were talking, dogs were barking, T.V.'s were playing. But not anymore. The only audible sound was Danielle's faint breathing.

It took her some time, but she eventually rose to her feet. She shuffled to the kitchen, squinting at the light that streamed in through the windows. She subconsciously hobbled to the fridge, reaching around the sympathy casseroles and other foods to pull out a Dr. Pepper. She only paused for a moment to look at the pictures of various family members scattered around the kitchen, taking a deep breath before moving to the living room couch.

Those pictures didn't break her down anymore; she could look at them and keep going.

She stared at the dark T.V., listening to the birds chirp outside. After the funeral, the house had been crawling with well-wishers. Mostly friends of her parents and sisters (Danielle was a kind of loner), but Danielle didn't really mind. She'd just appreciated that she didn't have to be alone in her big old house.

She still wasn't sure what she was going to do with the house. It was _hers_ now, all 5,294 square feet of it. She knew she couldn't just move in; the life insurance money would only cover the house for a little while. Plus, she'd been planning on eventually moving back to North Carolina and starting Duke again.

But, clearly, with the apocalypse near at hand, that plan was gone.

Danielle drained the last of her coke, going up to her old bedroom and changing into a pair of jeans and a hoodie. She plaited her hair in a simple braid that hung past her ribcage, sliding her feet into flip flops. She packed a bag, not sure how long she planned on staying with the boys, just knowing that she was supposed to be with them.

Danielle locked all the doors, quickly climbing into her cherry-red Kia Rio 5 (a graduation present from her dad) and setting off for South Dakota.

She had prophecies to fulfill.


	2. A is for Abandoned

Chapter 1: A is for Abandoned

_"For if God did not spare angels when they sinned, but sent them to hell, putting them in chains of darkness to be held for judgement." – 2 Peter 2:4_

* * *

Danielle went straight to the factory she'd seen in her dream. It took her some time to find it (she had to stop several times to regain her bearings), but she pulled up to it by that night. She spotted the Impala, parking her car right next to it.

Danielle grabbed a flashlight from the Impala's trunk (they didn't lock that thing!) and entered the factory.

"Sam?" she called, swinging the thin light beam over the wreckage. "Dean?"

Faintly, off to her right, she heard Sam ask, "Is that…?" and Dean shout, "Danny? We're over here!"

Danielle picked her way through the debris, flashing back to the industrial site where her family had exploded. She quickly banished the thought from her mind, distracted by the huge chunk of the ceiling that she had to crawl over.

The boys were on the other side, and Sam reached up and helped her before pulling her into a swift hug. "What are you doing here?"

"I had a dream, duh," she answered, smirking as she hugged Dean.

"So you, uh, know what happened here?" the older Winchester asked, throwing a confused glance around the room.

She furrowed her brow. "It looks like an angel was here. In their true form," she clarified.

"You don't know?" Sam asked.

"It wasn't real clear in the dream. It was a minor detail."

"Well, Dan, looks like you're right," Dean stated, shining his flashlight on a massive sigil written on one of the not-destroyed walls.

"Is that blood?" Danielle demanded, her breath hitching in her throat.

"Yeah. It's an angel-warding sigil. Press your bleeding palm on that and any angel in a mile-radius gets blasted to high heaven," Dean answered.

"So, what, two angels then?"

"Fighting?" Danielle questioned, looking between the two in confusion. "Why would two angels be fighting?"

"You tell us. You're supposed to be all-knowing," Sam joked, elbowing her side.

She rolled her chocolate eyes. "I'm a prophet, not God."

"Pretty damn close," Dean muttered, wandering away. His eyes suddenly caught something, and he dropped the flashlight, darting towards it. "Cas?!"

Danielle and Sam followed Dean, where the angel's body was laid out on the ground. She stopped, staring at the body in front of them. Something was … wrong. She couldn't place it, but … with Cas, she'd always been able to _feel_ him somehow. It was faint, and she hadn't noticed it until it was gone, but there'd always been a buzz, of sorts. Like when you got near a light bulb or an outlet and sometimes you could hear the electricity running through it. It was as if she could feel the celestial energy pulsing underneath the borrowed skin.

All of a sudden, a piece of her confusing prophecy fell into place. The glimpses of Castiel without his trench coat, eating and talking and _smiling _…

"It's not Cas!" Danielle warned right as the vessel's eyes snapped open.

"Huh?" The vessel clutched onto Dean's arm as he helped the man up before pushing and stumbling away. The man looked around wildly, eyes as wide as saucers. "Where… Where am I? W-Who are you?"

"Castiel?" Dean demanded.

The man shook his head. "N-No; he's gone. It's me. Jimmy. What the hell happened?"

"What, you don't remember?" Sam asked, and Dean irritatedly shook his head, muttering a curse.

"Uh- bits and pieces, yeah."

"Cas had to tell us something. Do you remember?" Dean growled.

Jimmy shook his head, bewildered. "No. I'm sorry," he apologized, and he looked like he actually meant it. Dean turned and walked a little bit aways, irritated, and Sam watched his brother, making no attempt to console the obviously frightened Jimmy.

"Uh, my name is Danielle. I don't know if you remember-"

He furrowed his brow and nodded. "No, I remember you. You're the prophet."

"Yeah," Danielle responded, shooting him her trademark grin. His voice was so different from Castiel's; Jimmy's voice was much higher pitched, while Cas's was deep and gravelly. "And this is Sam and Dean. Is there, um, anybody we would call?" Danielle questioned.

"Yes. Oh, my family." Jimmy seemed to remember them for the first time, his expression a mixture of pain and relief.

"Let's just get back to the hotel room first, alright?" Sam interrupted as Danielle's heart panged. Danielle could immediately infer from his tone that he was against letting Jimmy contact his family, and she regretted saying anything.

"Alright. But, hey, do you think we could stop somewhere and get something to eat?" Jimmy asked sheepishly.

Dean fixated the man with a disbelieving look that would make anyone shrivel under its gaze. Danielle quickly swooped in to Jimmy's rescue, adding with a gracious smile, "Yeah, me too. Driving six hours really gave me an appetite."

Dean just rolled his eyes, and Sam nodded. "Yeah, I guess."

* * *

3 Hours Later

It was probably very inappropriate to laugh, but Danielle couldn't help it. She had a good sense of humor. So, it was no surprise when she started giggling at Jimmy. "Dang, and I thought I was hungry!"

"I haven't eaten in months," he returned, his eyebrows rising up in an expression that was so un-Castiel that Danielle had to laugh at that too.

"Shouldn't your stomach be shriveled, then?" Danielle asked, even though she knew the answer.

Castiel/Jimmy shrugged, stuffing another sandwich into his mouth. "Beats me. How'd you know that?"

"Med school," Danielle answered, crossing her legs on the bed and readjusting her arms, which were supporting her weight. She glanced out the window behind Jimmy, watching Dean and Sam argue over what to do. "So how'd you get to be a vessel?" she questioned.

"I was a religious man," Jimmy responded after a moment of silence. He set his sandwich down on the table, seeming to lose his appetite. "I started hearing this voice… It's hard to explain, but it was Castiel's voice. He tested my faith, asked me to do things to prove my love for God. And then he just asked if I wanted to become something better, if I wanted to serve my true purpose." Jimmy shrugged.

"Wow," Danielle breathed, lying back completely on the bed and staring up at the ceiling. "You are so blessed."

He gave a short, disbelieving laugh, which quickly turned into a cough as he choked on his food. "You're kidding me, right? You don't even comprehend how _horrible_ it is! I wish I had never said yes in the first place."

Danielle propped herself up on one elbow, her eyebrows high. "You _did _something, though. Isn't that all you've ever wanted? For God to work through you?"

Jimmy shook his head. "I don't know," he muttered.

"Do you… Do you not want..." Danielle started, not believing what she was hearing. Because of an _angel, _because Jimmy did the thing he was destined to do, he had lost his faith? That was earth shattering. It was crazy and … _ironic_. An _angel_ had caused this devout man to lose his faith.

Sam and Dean entered at that moment, interrupting their conversation. They proposed for Jimmy to stay with them – Sam being rather rude – for some time in order to keep him and his family safe.

Jimmy didn't like the idea; he even tried to leave.

"Jimmy, I understand what you're going through," Danielle called over the clamor of the boys arguing. Clearly, the Winchesters had no clue how to deal with a human being.

"You have no idea," Jimmy snapped, turning his back on her.

Danielle's heart panged at what she about to say; she'd rather not even think about it, though it constantly plagued her mind. Like a shadow, it haunted every move. It was the silence in an empty room, and she never seemed to be able to shake it.

"Actually, she does," Dean said.

"I'm a prophet, you know, and demons can't get near me or else an archangel will come down and …" Danielle explained, avoiding everyone's gaze. She swallowed the lump rising in her throat, licking her lips. "So, the demons took my, uh … my family. And they… tortured them in order to get me to tell them about my visions."

Danielle took a ragged breath, tears rising in her eyes. Though it had been a couple months, it was just as hard as if it had happened yesterday. Especially considering that it was all her fault. If she had been more careful, if she had _listened_, they would still be alive.

"Well, it was a very long, drawn-out process, but it ended up with my family dying," Danielle quickly finished, fighting the urge to start crying. She was aware of the tense silence in the room as three pairs of eyes were locked on her.

Danielle looked up at Jimmy, trying to get her words to sink in. "So, _please, _listen to them. Don't make my mistake. They know what they're doing… most of the time," Danielle added at the end as a joke, the corners of her lips valiantly flickering up into a smile. A tear dripped down her cheek, and she quickly reached up to wipe it away, grabbing some tissues.

Jimmy looked down at his feet, disturbed by the image of the sweet woman crying. He slowly hung the trench coat back up on the hook. There was no way he'd get past all of them anyways; he'd just have to wait.

Jimmy was the first to fall asleep, leaving Danielle, Dean, and Sam all awake. They sat near the kitchen table, keeping their voice down to nearly inaudible whispers.

"One of us needs to stand on guard while he sleeps," Sam stated. "He's gonna try to sneak out."

"No, you mean _you_ need to watch him," Dean corrected. "I'm a-okay with sending family man back home, and Danny needs to rest after driving."

"You want him to just leave?" Danielle asked, surprised.

"Yeah! He's got a wife and kid," Dean said. "Why, you agree with Sam?"

Danielle looked guilty, but she nodded. "He could unconsciously know something. I mean, he and Cas shared the same body, same brain. They probably had the same thoughts and everything."

Dean was shocked that Danielle – sweet, caring Danielle – would agree with Sam. "You wanna keep him hostage?"

"Not hostage," Danielle said, shaking her head. "I just … I don't want his family screwed up. I really, really, don't want that to happen." She dropped her gaze to the table, avoiding the boys' stares.

"How are you doing?" Sam asked, his brow wrinkled in concern.

"Fine," Danielle answered in a hollow voice that both boys saw straight through.

"Danny," Dean started, and Danielle shook her head, holding up a hand to stop him.

"My family died because of me. There's nothing you could say to make me feel better. I know this is supposed to be a blessing, but sometimes…"

"You think it's a blessing?" Sam questioned, sharing a surprised look with his brother.

"Yes," Danielle answered. "This is what I've prayed for my whole life, for God to work through me and show his power through me. It's everything I've ever wanted." A fake smile flickered across her face. It _used_ to be everything she wanted. Now that her family had died because of it, she wasn't so sure. She was tired. She just wanted it gone.

Dean sighed, shaking his head. "You are one weird girl," he said.

The three of them stayed up talking for a little while longer before they retired to their separate positions: Danielle took the other bed, Dean took the couch, and Sam stayed on guard.

* * *

When Danielle woke up and Jimmy was gone, she wasn't surprised. It's not like she could see the future or anything.

Dean thought the whole situation humorous, especially the part where Danny didn't spill about Jimmy sneaking out – he could tell she knew as soon as they found out Jimmy had left. Sam, however, was agitated, and Danielle wasn't too worried about anything. She _did_ know the playbook, after all.

"Why didn't you tell us, Danielle?" Sam demanded.

"You know why," she said, throwing the few things she'd unpacked back into her suitcase. They were going to head to Pontiac to find Jimmy before the demons did.

"You have got to cut that mysterious fortune teller crap!" Sam snapped, making Danielle's eyes jerk up to him, stretched wide. She hadn't realized that he was actually _angry_ with her. Normally, Dean was the one to get irritated while Sam always tried to be sympathetic.

"Hey, easy there," Dean interrupted, his brow crinkled in confusion. "You okay?" he questioned his brother, clearly stumped.

If only he knew.

Danielle grabbed her keys, stepping in between the boys and tossing her bag into the back of her car.

"You're gonna drive separately?" Dean asked, following behind the girl.

She nodded, swiftly braiding her straight down the back. "I'm gonna follow right behind you."

It was a long, boring drive, and Danielle often yearned to be in the car with Sam and Dean. She hated driving by herself for long stretches of time; it was horrible. She contended to blasting the radio and zoning out, hardly paying attention to where she was going. She focused her eyes on the Impala's bumper, nearly rear-ending it a couple times.

Luckily, Dean never noticed.

When they pulled up to Jimmy's house, they could immediately recognize something was horribly wrong. The glass shattering and the screams were muffled but still noticeable outside the house, even while Danielle was sitting in her car.

She left it running, starting up the concrete path that led to Jimmy's house. Dean, however, had other ideas as he grabbed her, holding her back.

"Stay here!" he commanded.

"No!" Danielle said, pushing against him as Sam ran ahead into the home. "I can help; I have archangels!"

"You can't bring an archangel down here, Dan, look around you!" Dean exclaimed, his breath pooling out of his mouth in a fine mist. His vermillion eyes were stretched wide as he gently shook Danielle's shoulders in a hurried attempt to get the point across. "You're in a neighborhood; you'll kill a hell of a lot more than demons! Stay _here!" _

He turned and darted away, and Danielle sighed, pushing her bangs back. She paced up and down the sidewalk before opening the passenger door for her car and climbing into the driver's seat. At least she could drive the get-away car.

The family, shepherded by Sam and Dean, hurried out of the house. The wife and daughter went with Danielle while Jimmy went with Sam and Dean so he could talk to them.

Danielle spoke with Amelia and Claire, comforting and applauding them for how smoothly they were taking the whole ordeal. She followed Dean to a parking garage, where they gave Amelia a car and left them behind.

Danielle drove away, burdened with her knowledge. She knew that Amelia would soon become a demon, but there was nothing she could do. She was terrified to act out in any way other than what she had seen; one, it changed the future, opening them up to all kinds of changes, and two, her prophecies were God's plan. It was definitely not her place to change them. She merely received them.

* * *

**Thanks for all the follows and favorites and reviews! I definitely was not expecting as many as I got so thank you!**

**NotCrazyJustWeird97: Awwww that's so sweet (': I'm so glad I could make your prom better, I hope you had a fantastic time. (:**

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	3. We've All Got Our Demons

**Hello! Sorry this update is so late, in all honesty I totally forgot about this XD I've been so focused on writing later on this story! I'm already at Chapter 30 *le gasp***

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 2: We've All Got Our Demons

_"The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him, and delivers them." – Psalm 34:7_

It was late into the night when Dean flashed his blinker towards the forest stretching on the right of them. Danielle was confused at what he was doing until he pulled over, and she pulled up right in front of him. She got out of the car, surprised when Dean furiously stalked up to her after slamming his door.

"Please tell me you didn't have a clue about Jimmy's wife," he demanded.

"What?" she asked, her eyes stretched wide as she subconsciously took a nervous step back.

"His wife and daughter were taken. By demons. Now, _please_ tell me you aren't heartless enough to have let that happened."

Danielle couldn't stand the look of disappointment in his eyes. She dropped her gaze, swallowing around the lump in her throat and feeling nauseous as her stomach flipped over. She heard Dean's exasperated sigh, watched him take several aggravated steps in the other direction before turning around and coming back up to her.

"Danielle, you of _all people _should understand what exactly that man is going through. And for you to put him in that position is unbelievable. Ya know, when I met you, you seemed so _good. _You gave me hope that maybe – just maybe – there might actually be decent people out there."

Danielle stayed silent, her gaze focused on the ground. Dean was just like her dad- rash, impatient, bipolar. She knew that nothing she said would satisfy him, so she stayed silent and let him take out all his anger. How could she have been so stupid, so naïve? She'd thought she was doing the right thing. But if it made Dean so angry, how could it possibly be okay?

And he'd done something no one else has – _believed _in her. Her family had never been put in a position to do that, and she'd never had a friend close enough who would have to do that. He'd met her and thought that good people existed, and she'd let him down.

"I mean, am I crazy? Is there some other way you were thinking; something that made you think that any part of this was okay?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry," Danielle whispered, still staring at the ground. "It's not my place to tell you what happens."

"No, that's _exactly_ 'your place'. Look at _me." _

Danielle hesitantly picked up her gaze, clenching her jaw and fighting back the tears. There was nothing she hated more than to be yelled at.

"Why would He give you this 'blessing' if you don't tell anyone about it? Maybe God did this, so you could tell us these things."

"But then you'll try to change it," Danielle argued.

"Exactly! Maybe God's telling you this crap because it's _not what he wants to happen. _Ever think of that?"

Danielle shook her head, her eyes shining with discovery. What Dean said made a little sense. "I'm sorry. Please try to understand; to me, God is everything. He's all I've got left."

Dean's brow furrowed, and he stared at her as if she had grown two heads. Not that she was unused to it; many people didn't understand her faith. "You've never even met the guy."

"No, I've met Him. I've just never _seen _him."

Dean shook his head at her cryptic answer. "Just… tell us from now on, okay?" Danielle nodded, and Dean probed: "Promise."

"I promise," she assured. "And I haven't seen anything after we get to the place where his family's at. Promise."

Dean stared at her for a second before deciding she told the truth and nodding. "Let's go."

They both got into their respective cars, turning back and arriving at their destination about forty minutes later. Danielle told the boys she was going to go pray, and, after receiving several strange looks, strode off a good distance down the road.

Danielle descended to her knees, locked in a conversation with God for a good few minutes. After she finished, she stood up, thinking about a certain angel. Sam was right; they'd seen angel-on-angel violence. For whatever reason, an angel had come down to try and fight Castiel. For all they knew, he could be dead.

"Castiel… Um, are you okay?" she questioned, glancing up at the cloudy sky. "Are you… What's wrong, Cas?"

The sky was silent, and Danielle frowned, a bead of fear itching down her back. Castiel wasn't unpleasant; if anything, Danielle thought of Cas as a friend … sometimes. She liked Castiel just as much as she liked Sam (she would have said Dean, but she liked Dean a lot more than the both of them, if she was being honest).

A very thin, high-pitched noise drew her attention to her surroundings. She tensed, staring at the dense forest edging one side of the road. The noise grew louder, higher, making Danielle's brow furrow in confusion. It sounded like…

"…_Danielle_…"

The breathy whisper made her jump in fear, whirling around to see an empty road taunting her. Chills ran down her spine, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She held her breath, listening as intently as impossible.

The high-pitched noise grew louder, but it suddenly dulled as the voice became the main focus. It was strange, as if the voice came from someone whispering in her ear, but it from all around at the same time.

_"Dan … you underst… me?"_

"Castiel?" she questioned, recognizing the voice. She glanced up and around, but she was completely alone.

_"Daniell … ne … elp."_

The voice was unfocused and grainy, rising and falling continuously. Danielle could only grab snatches, and she struggled to comprehend his words. The ringing from the angel's voice didn't quite ease the process.

"You need help?" Danielle asked, tilting her head back and staring up at the sky. "What do you need me to do?"

_"I need … vessel in orde … demons. All you have to … say yes."_

It took a few heartbeats for Danielle to catch Castiel's drift. "You- You need a vessel? Because Jimmy's, Jimmy?"

_"Yes."_

Danielle hesitated, biting her lip. "It's gonna hurt, isn't it?" she asked, remembering Jimmy's retelling of being a vessel.

_"Yes."_

Danielle sighed. Now was not the time to be a coward. She had to be the hero, to prove to Dean that she _was_ a good person. "Yes, then. Yes."

Light suddenly poured down on her, wrapping her up in its uncomfortable warmth. She squeezed her eyes shut, her whole body rattling painfully. All of her skin prickled before feeling like it was being pulled away and pushed into different positions.

And then she exploded.

* * *

It was like treading water.

Except this water was endlessly deep, and it glowed painfully bright. The light seared her retinas, making it feel like she hadn't blinked in years. No matter how hard she kicked, no matter how frantically she flailed her arms, she could never get more than her nose above the water.

Every muscle ached with fatigue, and the water burned her skin, feeling like needles. Every time she tried to give up – and she tried several times – and drift away into the deep, the pain became absolutely unbearable, and she'd have no option but to instinctively claw her way back up to the surface.

The water scalded with every frantic gasp, searing her throat and settling painfully in her lungs like white-hot coals.

She was trapped inside her own mind; she knew that for sure. Over the feel of the water, she could barely feel her real body, moving stiffly. She had no control over anything; her limbs were completely numb, like a cadaver's, but she could feel them moving. She could faintly hear things going on, and, occasionally, catch snatches of Castiel speaking through her mouth.

But the weirdest part was the fact that Danielle could understand Castiel's thoughts. The thoughts were the same, flowing interchangeably between the two minds.

That part was spectacular. It was amazing, the angel's mind. There were no words to describe it.

But she couldn't get over the pain long enough to truly marvel at his brain.

Every so often, she could hear Castiel's voice, clear as day, echoing through her mind. The voice was thin and whispery, but it was hard to miss.

"Keep going," he reminded. "Your time is almost finished."

His reassurances would spur an extra dose of confidence, and she would fight harder. She was doing this for God; she was providing a vessel so God could perform His will.

"Good," Castiel thought. "This is all for the Lord. Remember that."

Slowly – so slowly that Danielle didn't hardly notice – everything started to fade away; the water, the stinging pain, the light. She was swelling up like a balloon, filling in her body. Castiel was still inside, but he, like everything else was fading. She could start to regain her vision, taking in the blurry shape of her hand resting on Jimmy's cheek, light shooting from all orifices in his face.

With a loud snap, everything suddenly went black before she was completely back in control of her body. She sucked in air, sputtering and gasping as oxygen – _oh, _sweet air! – flooded her lungs, easing the ache from the angel.

She raised her terrified gaze up to Castiel, whose teal eyes were staring steadily at her. He spared her a simple nod before rising to his feet.

Danielle choked, scrambling away on her hands and knees before emptying the contents of her stomach on the floor. She was exhausted; it felt like she'd just performed in a triathlon. She collapsed onto her side, her limbs too shaky and weak to support her. She rolled onto her back, watching the two blurry, throbbing Castiels talk to a couple of Sams and Deans.

Castiel suddenly blinked away, and Danielle groaned, closing her eyes and facing the ceiling. She felt like she was just about to faint; weak, unsteady, and just _weird. _A cold sweat broke out over her skin, and it was a struggle just to breathe.

She faintly heard Sam and Dean over her, asking if she was okay. She wanted to answer, at least open her eyes, but her body refused to listen.

Her head rolled, softly bumping against someone's chest. Someone's arms were wrapped underneath her, and she heard someone mutter, "Hang in there, kid."

And then Danielle just gave in to her exhaustion.

* * *

Danielle woke up with the sensation that she had been run over with a truck. And not some little sissy-boy pickup that was the same height as the Impala whose rims nearly drug across the ground when there was any sort of weight in the bed; an eighteen-wheeler.

She let out a groan, turning onto her stomach and burying her face into her pillow. Of course, every time she moved, pain shot up and down her body. I mean, what had she done yesterday? Nothing worth this agony! She'd driven all day, but that was the day before yesterday. Well, she had to drive to the factory to save Amelia-

_Oh mother of crap. _She'd been a _vessel. _Good _night_ she'd actually _willingly _let an angel – a freaking celestial being as vast as the universe with the strength of the stars – _into her body. _She let him crawl around under her skin and use her, like some kind of puppet.

"You awake?" came Bobby's gruff voice from somewhere in the living room.

She let out a mumbled, gargled response, unintelligible to even her. She cleared her throat, turning her head so that her ear was pressed to the pillow. She opened her eyes, squinting in the sunlight shining through the windows, illuminating the dust floating in the air.

"Uh… Please tell me I just had a bad dream," Danielle muttered.

"You okay, kid?" Bobby asked, eyebrows raised in concern. She was so much more fragile than the boys- hell, she was more fragile than pretty much everybody. She tried, but her body just couldn't keep up.

"I feel like I got run over," she returned, setting her hands on either side of the pillow and pushing up. They ached and trembled, and it took all of her weak strength to push up to her knees. She swallowed, feeling like she'd sucked on a ball of cotton through the night.

"Well, I've been run over, and I can tell you from experience- you look much better for wear," Bobby said.

A smile flickered across Danielle's face, and she rubbed her eyes. "Remind me to ask you about that when I'm not dying."

"Now that your health is out of the way," Dean's cold voice cut through their conversation, and Danielle looked up at where he stood near the kitchen. His arms were crossed across his chest, and his sneer was dropping into a scowl. "You knew about the demon blood."

Danielle's jaw dropped, and she stammered, lost for words. _Crap, crap, double crap. _"W-What?" she finally settled on, brows creased up in worry. Not so much for Dean, but for herself. She was about to get grilled, possibly worse. She knew how no-nonsense Dean was when it came to Sam and/or demons, and she'd been keeping pretty much the biggest secret of his life.

"Don't pretend like you don't know, Danielle!" Dean barked, and Danielle shrank back, eyes huge.

A chill ran down her spine, and a hard knot of fear settled in her stomach. She licked her lips, looking down. "Sorry. I- … Sorry." She knew that was a pretty crappy thing to say, but she didn't know what else _to_ say. She was starting to let Dean down more than she made him proud, and it was only a matter of time before he decided that she was more trouble than she was worth.

Dean snorted, shaking his head. "Sorry? You're sorry, that's good. Because that makes _everything_ better."

Danielle was unable to meet his gaze, eyes trained on the blanket gathered around her waist. "I… I really am. I just…"

"You just _what?_" he demanded, his arms unfolding and waving around while he ranted. "You thought it was _okay_ for him to be drinking the demon blood like some damn _vampire_? This is so wrong on so many levels! What, did Cas tell you not to tell me or something?"

That caused her to look up at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What? No. Why would you even …?"

"Because you two are _such_ chummy friends. I mean, you let him jump into your skin like it was no big deal! Like you were doing him _a favor._ What were you thinking? Huh?" he prodded at Danielle's silence.

She shook her head, fisting her fingers into the blanket. She felt so stupid, so worthless. She thought letting Cas use her as a vessel would win her points with Dean, but apparently not. Instead, she found herself digging an even deeper hole. It was like middle school all over again, where she followed the popular girls around in order to get into their cliques. She tried too hard and pushed every one away.

"You do realize he was planning to ride your ass for the rest of eternity, right?"

Danielle snapped her gaze up to him, shock rendering her helpless. He hadn't … He hadn't mentioned _that. _She figured it would go just as it had; him using her as a vessel until he swept in and saved the day and went back to Jimmy.

"Yeah," Dean said, nodding when he saw her stunned expression. "He was going to let Jimmy die, but the guy had a change of heart at the last second. _Eternity, _Dan. Imagine it."

Danielle's chest heaved, and she felt like an elephant was sitting on her. She was _this close _to being stuck like that, forever. Even thinking about it made her sick. Those few minutes – an hour, maybe more? – had seemed like days. _Eternity. _No wonder Jimmy had lost his faith; it was enough to drive anyone insane. Tears welled up in her eyes. She felt betrayed, manipulated, used. How could she have just played into his hands – into anyone's hands, for that matter? She was supposed to be _smart, _smart enough not to fall into those kinds of traps.

An agonized shout split through the air, and Danielle jumped, sweeping her gaze around the living room. She expected some creature to bowl into the house at any second, ready to slice and dice. But Dean and Bobby didn't move; instead, Bobby sent Dean a glare while Dean avoided everyone's gaze.

"What was _that_?" Danielle asked, suspecting that both men already knew.

"Sam," Bobby answered, turning to meet Danielle's confused eyes. "He's in the panic room."

"Wha- _Why_?" Danielle demanded.

"Because you kept your damn mouth shut!" Dean almost shouted, making the girl balk, pressing her lips together. "He could die, and it'll be your fault."

Danielle peeked up through her lashes, watching him stalk out of the house. He slammed the door behind him, and she cringed, letting out a shaky breath. She sat there, her thoughts colliding inside her brain and making the lump in her throat swell.

"We're all stressed," Bobby said.

"No, he's right," Danielle whispered, sniffing and dragging the back of her hand across her eyes. "I … I screwed up. Again." Her voice broke, and she swallowed, looking away as the tears blurred her sight. She rubbed her hands over her cheeks, refusing to cry. "Gah, I can't do anything right."

She dropped her head in her hands, letting out a ragged breath. Bobby watched in anxious sympathy, not sure what he was supposed to do. His wife and his mom were about the only women in the world he'd ever dealt with, and he knew them a lot better than Danielle. With the boys, he knew all he had to do was bark a few things and set them straight, but with Danielle… He was hopelessly out of his league.

She sniffed, shaking her head and looking up at the ceiling. She reached up and wiped away the few tears that had dripped down her cheeks, rising to her feet and folding the blanket over the back of the couch. "I'm gonna go check on Sam," she said.

"Uh, just be careful. He's not exactly on his rocker," Bobby warned, and she just nodded, making her way down the basement stairs. It was dark and musty as all get out, and she could feel her allergies kicking in already.

"Sam?" she called, knocking on the door and peeking through the eyehole. He was laying on the bed, sweat stains covering his flannel shirt. He had his arms and legs splayed out like a T, and he was screaming like someone was cutting him open.

"Sam!"

Sam's eyes suddenly opened, his screams cutting off. He looked around in confusion before he turned his gaze on her. "Danny?"

"Hey, Sam," she greeted, mustering up a weak smile. "If I open the door, you won't go crazy and try to kill me or anythin', right?"

"Uh, no?" he returned, sitting up on the cot and furrowing his brow at her.

"That's not really comforting," Danielle joked, pulling open the lock and easing her way into the room. The door was too heavy for her to shut, so she left it cracked.

She sat down beside him on the cot, frowning at the deep purple bruises under his eyes. The pallor to his skin was taking on a greenish hue, and he swayed unsteadily even as he sat.

"You aren't looking so hot," she said, reaching up and laying a hand on his forehead. He was burning up, sweat clinging to his hairline. Danielle wiped her hand on her jeans, brow furrowed in concern.

"I feel even worse," he retorted with a snort of dry amusement. "You don't look so good yourself."

"I know," she responded. "This angel-vessel thing really kicked my butt. And Dean kinda just chewed me out."

"For what?" Sam asked.

Danielle shook her head, barely managing to look at him. He looked like he was dying, and Danielle could only think of how it was her fault. If she'd told Dean sooner, they could've figured something out. He wouldn't have become so dependent on the blood.

"Is it because you didn't tell him?"

Danielle jerked her gaze up, stunned. "How'd you know?"

Sam just scoffed. "Because he's my brother. Look, whatever he said, it's not your fault."

She shot him a sad smile, standing up and retrieving the pillow that had been thrown across the room. She plumped it before setting it on the cot and instructing Sam to lay down. He obliged, and she grabbed a chair, positioning it beside his head.

"I know it's not right," Sam whispered, staring up at the ceiling. "But if it can _kill Lilith_ … Can it be _that_ bad?"

Danielle shrugged. "Doesn't sound that bad to me, but it's not up to me."

"Yeah, that's another thing," Sam said, folding an elbow behind his head and furrowing his brow at her. "How are you always okay with just following Dean's orders? I mean, you just do whatever he says. Not even I do that."

Danielle's gaze dropped, and she cocked her head to the side a little. "You know, I don't know. I never really… thought about it."

"If he tells you to jump off a cliff…?"

Danielle rolled her eyes, and Sam managed a small smirk. "I guess … I'm more of just the following type. I just don't … do my own things." She shrugged, knowing how pathetic that sounded but not really caring.

"So _not once _have you thought something Dean did was wrong?" he asked.

"I think this is wrong," she said, meeting his gaze.

He sighed in response, looking back up at the ceiling.

* * *

Four Hours Later

Danielle was wary to go into the living room; _Dean_ was in there. She needed to go upstairs, take a shower, at least try to get some sleep. But she was more than happy to linger in the kitchen for as long as it took before he got up and left.

"I'm gonna ask one more time: are we absolutely sure we're doing the right thing?" came Bobby's voice.

Danielle stood at the sink, setting down the plate she washing. She shut off the water, holding her breath and listening to their conversation.

"Bobby, you saw what was happening down there. The demon blood is killing him!"

"No, we are!" Bobby said, and Danielle chewed on her lip. There was no way this conversation was going to end well.

"_What_?" Dean asked.

"I'm sorry, I can't hold my tongue any longer. _We_ are. This cold turkey-thing ain't working! If he doesn't get what he needs, _soon _… Sam's not gonna last much longer."

Danielle walked away from the sink, approaching the two. Dean had his back to her, so she stood in the doorway, watching with anxious eyes.

"No," Dean said, shaking his head. "I'm not giving him demon blood."

"And if he dies?" Bobby pried, sounding as stunned as Danielle felt.

"Then at least he dies human!" came the loud response.

Danielle stared at his back in horror; he couldn't _possibly_, actually feel that way? He couldn't be willing to lose the last member of his family just to keep him human? For God's sake, he'd made a deal with a demon in order to keep Sam alive, and now he was just going to let him die because he was too proud to give him demon blood?

Bobby met Danielle's gaze over Dean's shoulder, every bit as shocked and horrified as Danielle was. Dean followed Bobby's eyes, staring at Danielle for a second.

"How could you say that?" she asked, shaking her head in distraught.

Instead of the sharp retort Danielle was expecting, he pinched his eyebrows up, chest heaving. His lips were trembling, and he seemed to be lost and confused.

"Dean," Danielle said, seeing her chance. If she could persuade him, get him to see things her and Bobby's way, they might actually be able to save Sam. "You can't just take someone off meth by completely taking it all away; you have to _wean _them. Slowly!"

"There isn't … gonna be some magical cure, Danielle, not this time," Dean said, shaking his head.

"There never is," she agreed. "But there's a better way than this. There's gotta be."

He didn't answer, and the room was silent for a moment, the only sound being Sam's furious shouts rising up through the house. He was yelling at someone, but the words were indistinct. If they didn't do something, Sam was going to die. And she knew Dean was in no way okay with that, but she also knew it would take a lot for him to get over the demon thing.

An idea popped into her head, and she jerked her wide-eyed gaze up to Dean. "Maybe there _is_ a magical cure. I mean, we _do_ know an angel, after all."

Dean looked hopeful for just a second before sighing and shaking his head. "He's not gonna help us."

"Why not?" Danielle asked. "Cas, you there?"

"Danny!" Dean barked, shooting a glare towards her before there was the traditional sound of fabric rustling.

She turned to see Castiel standing in the kitchen, hands hanging at his sides. He was expressionless, his cold eyes boring into hers. "Yes."

Danielle furrowed her brow; this Castiel was more like the one she'd first met, back when they'd been strangers. He seemed harsh, detached, emotionless.

"What's been going on with you, man?" Dean asked, stepping up to Danielle's side.

"What do you need?" the angel deadpanned, not looking away from Danielle.

"Uh … do- do you know what's happening with Sam?" she asked, glancing at Dean before looking back at Castiel.

"Yes."

"Well … Do you think you can help him?"

"No."

Danielle was taken aback by his sharp tone; what was _the matter_ with him? Was this an angel-vessel thing? Did he not like her anymore? That is, if he liked her at all in the first place.

"You can't, or you _won't_?" Dean challenged.

Cas fixed his stony glare on Dean, silent.

"Wha- Why not?" Danielle asked. "What's the matter, Cas?"

"Nothing," he said.

"Bull," she said back, her tone harsher than before. "Why'd you leave Jimmy? Why didn't you tell me that you were planning to use me for the rest of eternity?"

"You didn't ask."

Danielle blinked, stunned. She opened her mouth but wasn't quite sure what to say.

"So you're lying now? _Great,_" Dean said. And maybe he was just saying it in order to get at the stoic angel, but it sounded a whole lot like he was coming to her defense, despite how many times she'd made him angry in the past few days.

"She did not ask, therefore I did not tell her. Like I said, Dean, I do not serve you."

He said his statement with enough malice to make Danielle really worried. Something horrible had happened when he left his vessel, wherever he had gone. Something bad enough to make him almost _angry_ with the humans.

"Cas, what happened?" Danielle asked.

"It is not of your concern," he snapped. He ran his cold gaze over the three people in the room before disappearing, leaving them alone.

* * *

**Wow oh my gosh this chapter... CRAZY. I mean, Danny was Cas's vessel? LIke WHUT! Not a huge deal to them now, but later on... (; I wonder what all Cas found out being in her brain and all O_O**

**Poor Dan just can't get a break from Dean): She tries so hard and everything just backfires in her face.. Breaks my heart):**

**Do y'all like Dean is being too hard on her? Or do you just think Danny is being ridiculously stupid and reckless in an attempt to get Dean's approval?**

**Reviews= free kittens.**

**NotCrazyJustWeird97: I'm so glad to hear that! (: Thank you! And yes, I have to say, her dealings with the apocalypse are quite... Well, ****_interesting_**** to say the least. (; And yeah, she's the only prophet. As much as I love Chuck (I'm pretty sure he's half of my spirit animal (the other half being Kevin Tran)), I just couldn't write Danny in with him. Thank you so much for your reviews! I love them all, and I adore you and your feedback!**

**Aureus Lux: Thank you! And ****_wow_**** I just can't stop embarrassing myself... Haha thank you for telling me!**

** : ****_"Yet" _****being the key word there. Poor Dan'll be just as jaded as the rest sooner than you think.. ): And I'm glad you're enjoying this! Thank you for your review! **


	4. Help Me, Help You

**Chapter 3: **

**Help Me, Help You**

_"It was revealed to them that they were serving not themselves but you…" 1 Peter 1:12_

Three Hours Later

Danielle handed Sam the glass of water and the painkillers. She sat down next to him on the cot, looking up at the ceiling. The fan spun in lazy circles, occasionally blocking the view of the moon through the window at the very top of the room.

"Hey, this is kind of peaceful," Danielle said.

"Yeah, maybe," Sam snorted.

"Have the hallucinations gotten any better?" she asked.

"Worse," he grunted, staring down at the – now empty – glass of water in his hands. He glanced up at the open door, feeling a twinge of guilt in his stomach. He couldn't help but notice that Danielle had never closed the door when she came to visit, providing him the perfect chance to escape. He felt bad for taking advantage of the sweet girl, but he was going to die if he didn't get what he needed.

"Do you feel okay?" she asked, her brow wrinkled in concern. "With all the shaky stuff, and the hot and cold flashes?"

"Not really," he returned, distracted. He had to do this … This was no time to back out of the plan. It was too late now. If he stayed in this damned room any longer, he'd either go insane or die. He _needed_ blood.

"What are Dean and Bobby doing?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"They're sleeping," Danielle answered. "I'm a bit of a night owl, so." She smiled proudly at Sam, who just nodded, flashing her his best attempt at a smile.

"Are you alright? I'm not a hallucination, y'know," she promised, mistaking his thoughts.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he answered, standing up. He went over to the table, setting down the glass of water and placing both of his hands on the back of the chair. Now she just had to look away…

"Are you sure?" she questioned.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I'm just tired."

"Me too," she said with a sigh. "I don't think Dean is as mad at me as before. He was acting pretty decent earlier."

"Really?" he asked, trying his hardest to sound interested. It felt like his skin was crawling, and his hands were itching to carry out the plan.

"Yeah. He told me all about Cas… Can you imagine what all they did to him up there? I mean, it's supposed to be heaven but…" She shuddered, drawing into her own thoughts.

Sam just nodded, eyes darting around the room, unable to stay trained on one thing. Danielle stared at him, noticing his weirdness and just sighing. "You should go to bed. You might feel better in the morning." She stood up, turning her back to him and fluffing up the pillow on his cot.

Sam picked up the chair, inching closer.

"Don't let me keep you up. God knows you need some actual sleep."

Sam hesitated, torn. Danielle was not the kind of person you were mean to, not ever. You didn't need to be; she was too nice to make anybody dislike her. And to take advantage of her like this… She deserved so much better.

She deserved to be a doctor, with a nice husband, and a bunch of kids. She deserved a cookie-cutter life with white picket fences and a dog. She didn't belong in their life, bouncing from cheap motel to cheap motel, hunting monsters, always sleeping with a gun. She wasn't going to make it living this way.

Danielle turned around, her eyes widening at the sight of Sam holding the chair over his head. "Wha-" she started, but Sam brought the chair down, smacking it against her temple.

She crumpled, and Sam just barely managed to catch her. He laid her on the cot – it was the least he could do – frowning at the bruise forming above her eyebrow. He'd tried not to hit her hard; she was so fragile that even a gentle hit would've been too much.

Sam steeled himself; he had to go. He slipped out of the panic room, shutting and locking the door behind him just in case she woke up.

* * *

The light filtering in through the blinds were what woke Dean up. He yawned, glancing around to see that he was alone. He didn't think anything of it; Bobby usually woke up before him to go do other stuff, and Danny didn't even come down from the upstairs bedroom 'til lunch.

He shuffled over to fridge, grabbing his usual beer and sitting down at the table. He didn't miss how unusually silent the house was; the only thing he could hear was a bird somewhere out in the junkyard.

Deciding that Sam must've been sleeping, he went down to check on him. Danielle had hesitantly chewed him out for not seeing his brother while he was awake, but it all made sense in Dean's mind. Sam had betrayed him – he'd done the unthinkable – and Dean wasn't ready to forgive him. Not yet.

Dean opened the slit to peer in and nearly dropped his beer.

Sam was gone, but Danielle was sleeping peacefully on the cot, head turned away. A chair was knocked onto its side beside the cot but, other than that, everything was normal.

"Dan, what the hell?!" Dean demanded, yanking open the door and bursting in the room.

Danielle stirred, slowly turning her head over to him. Dean stopped in his tracks, eyes locking on the blood trickling down from the cut on her temple. She had difficulty focusing on him; her eyes were slightly glazed and kept widening and narrowing.

"Danny, what happened?" Dean quickly crossed over to her, crouching in front of the cot.

She grunted as she sat up, reaching up to touch the cut. Dean pulled her hand away, cupping her chin and tilting her head to get a better view of the wound.

"I think … I don't know … He must've thought I was a hallucination … "

"What happened?" Dean repeated.

She raised her sullen gaze, fear shining in her chocolate orbs. "Sam hit me with the chair."

Dean furrowed his brow in shock, another thought feeding into his spinning mind. "Dammit. Stay right here!"

"Where are you goin'?" she mumbled.

Dean handed her the bandana on his wrist, instructing her to put pressure on the injury. "I gotta check on Bobby."

After they found Bobby knocked out in the junkyard and a car missing, they deduced that Sam had officially gone off the rails. Dean was upset, and Danielle didn't know what to say. Going by Bobby's silence as well, Bobby didn't know either.

Only a few hours after Danielle and Bobby woke up from being knocked out, Danielle convinced Dean to let her go with him as they chased after Sam.

* * *

"Are you… Are you still mad at me?" Danielle managed to ask, eyes focused solely on her hands in her lap. It had taken her this long to muster up the courage to ask the million-dollar question, the one that had been weighing on her mind ever since she woke up yesterday.

Dean glanced over at her, not oblivious to the torment she was trying to hide. He let out a long sigh. He didn't want to forgive her, and if they weren't in the position they were in, he probably wouldn't have. But Danielle was too much like freaking Bambi for him to stay mad at for too long. "Yeah. I'm pretty pissed, but I'm over it."

She looked up at him, eyes hopeful. "Really?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "I don't _trust_ you, but I'm not mad at you."

Her face fell, and she returned to staring at her hands. "I really am sorry Dean. I didn't know what to do."

"Well, now you know," he said, marveling at the amount of patience he had with the girl. They were friends – pretty damn close, in Dean's eyes at least – but that didn't exclude her from Dean's way of thinking. And if it was anyone else, he probably would've sent them on their way, slammed the door in their face. But he knew that Danielle tried her hardest. She was getting along well for someone who was thrown into their lives not but a handful of months ago.

Plus, he was slipping. Sam was acting out, drinking demon blood and not listening to anything Dean said. And the worst part was that this had been going on for months – ever since he was in _Hell_ – and he hadn't noticed, not until Sam had lost it in front of him. Now Sam was gone and everyone was looking to him for answers, for orders on what to do. But with Bobby, it had to be the _right_ orders, or he'd be a joke in the older man's eyes. He was walking on blocks of ice, and they were drifting and melting away, and soon he'd be drowning in the ocean threatening to swallow him up.

He didn't want to lose Danielle too, not right now. He didn't want to be alone, not with Sam gone and Bobby expecting him to step up and fill his father's shoes. Danielle didn't expect anything from him, and she didn't question him. She took what he had to say, and she listened to him vent whenever he got too angry.

"Well now it's awkward," Dean joked, trying to shake off the feelings weighing on his shoulders. "You can't stick around if you're gonna keep having girl moments."

She smiled a little, looking up at him. "Sorry; I'll fix that problem soon as we get Sam back."

Dean wrinkled up his face in disgust. "Don't even talk like that; that's just wrong."

Danielle, still smiling, looked at the road in front of them. It was late (just past midnight), and the roads were pretty much empty.

"Have you had a vision yet?" Dean asked.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I think it's just because I keep getting knocked out. My mind doesn't have enough time to incubate."

"'Incubate'?" Dean echoed.

Danielle snorted, shooting him a hesitant grin. "Don't judge. I didn't know what else to say."

"So you say 'incubate'?" Dean challenged. Despite everything, he couldn't fight the urge to mirror her infectious smile. "It sounds dirty."

She barked a laugh. "Disgusting! Get your mind out of the gutter."

"It's never seen the light of day," Dean retorted, winking.

"What do we do when we find him?" Danielle asked after a long period of quiet.

"Well, first we're gonna kill Ruby," Dean answered, readjusting his grip on the wheel.

"What? Why?" Danielle demanded, surprised.

"Because she's a demonic bitch who's tryin' to turn my brother against me," Dean shot back.

"You realize that if Sam gets strong enough to kill Lilith, he can stop the apocalypse," Danielle gently reminded.

"Not this way. Not like this. He won't do it by becoming no better than a demon."

"But if he stops the apocalypse-"

"It'll screw him up forever. All this demon crap has to stop. Ruby was the one who started all of this."

"But if Gabriel didn't even come down when I was with her, then she can't be that bad."

"I thought you hated Gabriel," Dean retorted.

Danielle looked down at her lap, shaking her head. "I don't hate anybody. I just ... I'm confused."

"What's so confusing? He promised to bring back your family, and he lied. It's as simple as that!"

Danielle marveled at Dean's sense of right and wrong. Everything was so black and white, and she couldn't help but envy him. He knew exactly who he was, who he trusted, and who he didn't trust. It was completely the opposite for Danny; she was so confused. She wanted to do the Christian thing and trust the angels, but they were quickly proving to be just as corrupt as humans.

"Dan, I know you're big on the whole God thing, but these angels are seriously screwed up. They aren't full of angelic wisdom with fluffy wings and a halo. They kill, they lie, they can fall and have doubt. They aren't perfect."

Bitterness rose in Danielle's throat, leaving a bad taste in her mouth. "I was so happy," she confessed in a whisper, scared her voice would break if she spoke any louder. "When I met you and Castiel. I mean, he was an angel. And for a while, it was black and white for me too. God comes first, so trust the angels. But now... I don't even know what to do. You and Sam's life is confusing enough, now there's heaven and Hell, and I just don't know anymore."

"I know it's hard right now," Dean stated. "We just gotta focus on saving Sam."

"Before saving the world?" Danielle questioned teasingly.

"Before anything," Dean affirmed, shooting her a small smirk.

Danielle smiled a little, nodding. "Okay. I'm in. Team Dean."

"Team Winchester," Dean corrected, and Danielle snorted a quiet laugh.

A flare of pain suddenly stabbed through her head, and she winced, grabbing onto her thick hair.

"Dan you okay?" Dean asked, foot hovering over the brake in case he needed to stop.

"Yeah," she choked out, her heart rate slowing down as the pain ebbed away. She leaned her head back on the seat, breathing heavily. "I think I'm gonna have a prophecy soon."

"Oh. Well, hopefully it's a good one."

They both knew it wouldn't be. There were a lot of different endings to this chapter, but none of them would be good. No matter what, someone was going to get hurt, maybe even die.

"Hopefully," Danielle muttered, turning her melancholy gaze on the dark forest streaking by the Impala.

* * *

Considering how Dean and Danny didn't trust Gabriel to come down to smite Ruby (and how inconvenient would it be if an archangel blew up the whole hotel- all five stars of it?), Danielle opted to wait outside the nice hotel while Dean went inside to hunt down the two fugitives.

Danielle, however, quickly became concerned when Dean didn't show up after five minutes. Not sure how long these heists took, Danielle waited two more minutes before going into the hotel.

The man at the lobby offered a tired smile and Danielle shot him her signature grin before getting bowled over.

Her shriek of surprise quickly turned into a groan of pain as she smacked against the floor, her attacker's shoulder embedding into her chest. All she could make out was dark hair and lots of leather with the faint odor of blood.

The person jumped to her feet, darting away with only a sharp, "Watch it, Delphi," to signal her departure.

Danielle scrambled to her feet, waving away the concierge's concerns and chasing after Ruby. She had no clue what she was going to when - or if - she caught up to the fleeing demon, but she instinctively chased after her anyways.

Danielle burst out into the dark parking lot, whirling around. The lot was abandoned; Ruby had disappeared.

She walked back into the hotel, darting through the halls as soon as she was out of the concierge's sight. She burst into the room just as Sam slammed his fist into Dean's jaw, making Dean fall and break the coffee table.

"Oh, my gosh," Danielle muttered before jumping forwards. "S- Stop! Sam, stop!"

He turned and stared at the panicked, wide-eyed woman. Dean laid on the ground, groaning and spitting out blood.

"Sam, stop! This isn't you!"

"You don't know me," he growled, turning back towards Sam.

"You are not this person!" Danielle argued while Dean slowly staggered up to his feet. "This is what the blood makes you!"

Sam grabbed Dean by his collar, punching his brother across the cheek. Dean crumpled, blood trickling from his nose. Sam turned around, snapping his murderous gaze to Danielle and stalking towards her.

Realizing she was blocking the door, she glanced at Dean, wondering if she should try to stop him. Key word: try.

Dean mustered a faint shake of the head, and Danielle stepped out of the way, letting Sam stroll by. She ran over to Dean, dropping to her knees and instantly glancing over his face. He seemed to have gotten off easy; he had a couple of nasty-looking bruises and a nosebleed, but that was it. Sam must've been holding back.

"I'll go get you some ice," Danielle offered, knowing that Dean's heart must have been breaking. She left the room, carefully shutting the door before finding the ice machine and filling up a few bags. She went back to the door and lingered outside, her head starting to ache. She pressed a bag of ice against her temple, but it did little to ease the pressure.

When she finally decided she'd given Dean enough time to grieve, she knocked on the door and slipped into the room. She gave him a bag of ice, and they were on their way back to Bobby's house.

* * *

The Next Day

Bobby stepped into the room and did a double take. He furrowed his brow. "Danny, what the hell are ya doin'?"

"Don't cuss," she reprimanded from where she was standing in the middle of the living room. She picked up her dark eyes, revealing the purple bruises descending down to her sculpted cheekbones.

"You look like - " Bobby started, but he choked back the word, correcting himself. "You ain't lookin' too hot."

"I'm trying not to fall asleep," she stated and glanced longingly at the coffee maker in the kitchen. "I don't know how to work the coffee thing."

Bobby rolled his eyes, heading over to the machine. "Come over here, and I'll show ya."

Danielle followed like a ghost, standing over Bobby's shoulder and talking with him. Dean eventually made his way down from Bobby's bedroom upstairs, nodding at the two of them before plopping down at the table.

"You look God-awful," Dean informed as Danielle set down a cup of coffee in front of him.

"I'm tryin' to stay awake," she told him, bouncing on her toes and sipping from her cup.

"So you don't have a vision?"

Danielle nodded. "I'm about to fall asleep standin' up."

"How long you been awake?" Dean asked.

"Well, since around 11 yesterday morning, and it's 9 o'clock now so..."

"23 hours," Bobby finished when it became apparent Danielle was too tired to do the math herself.

"And it really sucks 'cause I can't move around to stay awake 'cause of my head," she stated, finishing her cup of coffee. She slowly handed the cup to Bobby, wincing as her head panged even while she hardly moved.

"You tried painkillers?"

"I'm not stupid," Danielle shot back, mustering a tired smile to show she wasn't snapping at him. "I've already taken six ibuprofen, but it's just gettin' worse. Plus if I take anymore it'll just make me more tired."

"Stick your head in some cold water," Dean suggested.

"I can't bend over," Danielle said. If she did, her head very nearly exploded from pain.

Bobby pulled out a cooking pot and filled it with ice and water. Danielle closed her eyes in anticipation as Bobby headed over to her.

"Don't tell me when it's gonna happen. I don't want to get ready for it. Just-"

Bobby threw the water in her face, and she shrieked, eyes popping open. Dean started laughing, and Danielle jumped up and down.

"Good _night_ that was freezing!" she exclaimed, joining in with Bobby and Dean's laughter. "I hate both of you!"

"You're welcome," Bobby chimed.

* * *

Three Hours Later

"Danielle."

Danielle snapped out of her doze, whirling around. She stumbled as her vision went cloudy from the pain.

"You don't look so good," the white-haired man commented, a smug smirk on his face.

A thrill of fear ran through Danielle, and she instantly opened her mouth to call for Dean.

"My name is Zachariah."

Danielle shut her mouth, an amazed smile spreading across her lips. "I've heard of you. I think. Your name sounds familiar."

"You know your Bible," Zachariah stated. "Now help me understand this: God bestows this incredible blessing on you - the ability to be able to see the future - and you don't even use it?"

Danielle's smile fell, and she glanced across the rows of cars at Bobby's house. Despite the fact he was an angel, she started to feel a worm of doubt in her stomach. Now would be a _great_ time for the boys to come outside. "I don't want to see what happens."

"But you prayed for this, right? Prayed for the chance to _do_ something for God; the ability to help people. Now you don't want it?"

Danielle shook her head. Zachariah's silver tongue was confusing her already muddled thoughts. "I- Is the apocalypse really gonna happen?" she questioned, trying to change the topic.

"You're supposed to tell us," he stated. "That's the whole reason you've got your gift."

"You want me to see the future?"

"Yes. So will you?"

Danielle stared down at her feet, her heart drumming in her chest. She wanted to run away, but her head hurt too bad to do anything. She didn't want to fall asleep. She didn't want to see the future. Dean and Bobby were okay with that; why weren't the angels?

"I don't want to," she whispered, refusing to meet his gaze.

The ground she was staring at suddenly changed, becoming unbelievably soft white carpet. She looked up to see she was in her childhood bedroom. Her dim Christmas lights were casting their warm glow around the room, and smiling faces stared at her from the pictures pasted around the walls.

Danielle instantly went for the door, but just as she went to grab the knob, the knob disappeared. Panic hit her, and she started banging on the door. When it became apparent the door wasn't going to budge, she ran to the window and tried to push it open.

There was a faint murmuring noise, almost like someone whispering. Danielle glanced over her shoulder, wide eyes sweeping around the room. Zachariah must've zapped her back to her room, but why? And what was that noise? She turned back to the window, her fingers scratching at the edges of the glass.

"They won't open."

Danielle dropped her arms, panting heavily. She didn't even jump in surprise; she just faced the stoic angel. "So I'm a prisoner now?"

"If you see it that way."

"What's wrong with you, Cas?" Danielle demanded. "You used to be good."

"I'm bad for following orders from Heaven?" he challenged.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, hurt clearly shining in her chocolate orbs. "You _lied_ Cas; angels don't lie!"

"Clearly they do," he shot back.

He was so emotionless; it was like talking to a brick! All of his features remained the same; he hardly seemed to even be registering the fact that he'd hurt her, someone who all of them had started to trust, whether they wanted to or not.

Wait- no… Danielle watched as there was a flash in his eyes, and his jaw tightened. He took a step forward, fingers curled into fists at his side. Faced with the now-angry angel, Danielle stepped back, her legs bumping into the desk pushed against one of the walls.

"Do not mistake me for a friend," he growled, his rich baritone soaking into her ears. Whenever he spoke, she could hear the whispering noise from before, paired with a quiet whistle. It wasn't loud enough to be distracting or make it hard to hear his words, just loud enough to notice. "I helped you once; I won't make that mistake again."

Danielle was quiet, staring anxiously at him. Her fear started to crumble as his anger waned, and she watched his heaving chest begin to slow. She let out a sigh, her eyebrows pinching up in sympathy. "What'd they do to you?" she breathed, running her eyes down his body, half-expecting to see burn marks or stab wounds. She wasn't a hopeless soul; she knew the angel didn't know much about emotions. She wasn't going to kid herself and think that they were buddies. But they kinda were, in a way. And if they weren't, him and Dean _definitely _were.

So what could the angels have done to make him so cold to them, so angry?

Castiel's eyes widened just slightly, and Danielle felt a little panicked. He was staring at her, nostrils flared, fingers still curled into fists, though he didn't seem furious. He almost seemed… surprised, in a way. Taken aback. Scared.

"Help me, Cas," she begged, hoping she could appeal to whatever humanity he might have.

Cas's eyes fell back to their half-lidded state, boring into her own. His fingers fell from their fists, and his face was wiped of any emotion. "Help yourself," was all he said before he disappeared.

* * *

**Yeah, so... Hope I didn't disappoint y'all too much. This was pretty awfully written, not gonna lie. Lots of random time-jumps, but I'm just getting so antsy; we're so close to the Season 4 finale! XD**

**and I hope y'all can forgive me for being gone so long! I've been on a Sherlock craze (any Sherlockians reading?), and I'm kind of messing around with a FF for that show (Benedict Cumberbatch tho... Omg.)**

**THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS AND FAVORITES AND STUFF**

**NotCrazyJustWeird97: I think you're psychic... I really do LOL. And, yeah, Dean's tough love is pretty much the greatest thing in the universe, not gonna lie. And thank you! It's been something I've been looking forward to writing for a while! Thanks for reviewing, sweetness! (:**


	5. All Hell Breaks Loose

Chapter 4:

All Hell Breaks Loose

_"The beast that you saw was, and is not, and is about to rise from the bottomless pit and go to destruction." – Revelations 17:8_

Danielle was jogging. Waves of pain came from her throbbing head, but she continued running. Back and forth. Back and forth. Window to the door. Window to the door.

Zachariah frequently popped in, persuading her with promises of money and fame. He even bribed her with bringing her family back from the dead.

Danielle ignored him.

After a few failed attempts by Zachariah, Cas started to show up. Danielle actually talked to him, trying to convince him to help her. Castiel always had a reasonable rebuttal for whatever she said, but Danielle didn't waver.

What seemed like hours later, she turned away from the window to start towards the door and nearly ran into Dean.

"Dean!" she exclaimed, her eyes stretching wide. "What'd you do?"

He looked even more stunned than she did. "Dan, what the hell are you doing here? We've been busting our asses looking for you!"

Danielle was too worried to reprimand him for cursing. "This is my room at my parent's house. Zachariah – the angel – kidnapped me."

"Kidnapped is a bit of a derogatory term, don't you think?"

They both turned around to see Zachariah standing confidently on the other side of the bed, Cas hovering right behind him.

Danielle listened as Dean and Zachariah battled it out. For every persuasive pitch, there was a sarcastic comeback. Everything Danielle witnessed made her opinion of angels drop lower and lower. Maybe Zachariah was just the bad apple, but it was hard to believe that an angel could be that sardonic and still work for God.

When the two finally left, the lights dimmed even more. Danielle rubbed her face, slapping her cheeks and shaking her head.

"What are we s'posed to do?" Danielle muttered.

"Well ain't just gonna sit here, that's for damn sure." Dean grabbed the heavy cross sculpture resting on the shelf above her bed, raising it up and heading for the wall.

"Ah ah ah!" Danielle exclaimed, snatching the cross from him. "You'll break it!"

"We gotta get outta here somehow!"

Danielle glanced around before handing him her great-grandmother's (broken) clock. Dean started going at the wall, but just as a hole began to appear, it disappeared again.

Frustrated tears rose in Danielle's eyes. She was tired, her head hurt, and she was starting to get claustrophobic. At this point, she no longer cared. Anything would be better than this. Plus, if she went to sleep, she could get back on her game. It would be easier to resist Zachariah's slippery promises and temptations.

Danielle climbed into her old bed, sinking into the mattress and pulling the thick comforters up to her chin. The lights dimmed even more, just a few watts from being completely off.

Dean looked around in confusion before seeing Danielle. "Dan, what are you doing?"

"I'm too tired," she sighed, closing her eyes and inhaling the homey smell. She felt like a kid again.

"No, you have to stay awake," Dean protested, shaking her leg.

"No, Dean," Danielle mumbled. She planned to say more, but she fell asleep before she could.

* * *

Two Hours Later

Dean was walking around the room, marveling at Danielle's old life. The index cards posted around the walls with bible verses proved that even as a kid she'd been religious. There were books everywhere, which wasn't so surprising; she was always either reading or watching TV on her laptop at Bobby's house. The walls were painted a gentle brown and blue, and, when paired with the dim Christmas lights adorning the walls, gave the room a very mellow feeling.

Dean couldn't help but chuckle at the basket full of spools of yarn and knitted scarves; Danielle was every bit an old lady. All she needed was a couple of cats.

A shrill scream filled the air as Danielle sat bolt upright. Dean had never heard her scream after a vision before; he swallowed his dread and ran over to her.

She fought against him, shrieking and sobbing. When she finally realized it was Dean, she started apologizing. The steady stream of sorries gave Dean the sneaky suspicion that she wasn't just apologizing for hitting him. She turned onto her stomach, burying her face into the blue pillow.

"Hey, it's gonna be alright," Dean promised, though he had no clue. Danny was the one with all the answers, but she was clearly in no position to spill.

"We have to get out of here," came her muffled response. She picked up her tear-stained face, red eyes wide. "We have to get outta here and run as far away as we can."

"Running won't do you much good."

Dean jerked up his gaze to where Zachariah was standing right next to the door, smirking. "God, don't you know better than to sneak into a girl's room in the middle of the night?"

"Good one. You fell asleep, I take it?"

Danielle quickly clambered out of bed with Dean's help, shrinking behind him and wiping her cheeks.

"She's not taking calls right now, sorry. You'll have to leave a message," Dean stated, smirking.

Zachariah snorted a small laugh, taking a step forwards. He ran his hand over the corner of her bed, and Danielle held back her disgust. "There are ways to get you to talk," he threatened, his eyes snapping up to hers.

She inhaled sharply. An _angel_ was _threatening_ to _torture _her. This was so, so wrong.

"Why do you wanna know so bad?" Dean questioned.

"Well, we would like to know if the desired outcome is reached," Zachariah explained, holding his arms behind him in an at-ease position.

"And that would be…?"

Zachariah just smirked.

Dean and Danielle's eyes widened. "You never wanted to stop it, did you?" Dean whispered.

The angel snorted. "You really think we would let 65 seals get broken unless senior management wanted it that way?"

Dean and Danielle were stunned into silence; Danielle felt nauseous. She turned her horrified gaze on the ground, reaching out and clutching onto a fistful of Dean's jacket in order to keep herself upright.

"…Why?" Dean finally managed to choke out.

"Why not?" came Zachariah's smug retort. "The apocalypse. When our side wins, and we will, it's paradise on Earth. What's not to like about that?"

"And what happens to all the people during your pissing contest?" Dean asked.

Zachariah sighed. "Well. You can't make an omelet without cracking a few eggs. Well, truckloads of eggs, but you get the picture."

Danielle squeezed her eyes shut, lips moving as she silently prayed.

"Oh, you can stop with the theatrics," Zachariah stated, waving his hand nonchalantly. "There's no one listening."

Danielle's heart stopped beating, and she raised her teary gaze to the angel in front of her. "What do you mean?" she breathed, her voice barely audible.

Zachariah's smirk grew. "God has left the building."

Danielle's face drained of color, and she buried her face in her hands. Faint mutters of prayers were all that could be heard from her, and Zachariah rolled his eyes.

"So dramatic," he muttered.

"God exists!" she exclaimed, tears rolling down her cheeks. "He's alive; I've felt Him!"

"Oh, don't get me wrong: He exists all right. He just doesn't care."

Danielle's eyes grew even wider, and she shook her head. "Dean, it's the Devil. H-He has to be!"

"Sorry," the angel apologized. "The Devil's not here … yet."

And with that, he disappeared.

* * *

An Hour and a Half Later

Danielle hadn't stopped praying. Dean hadn't stopped thinking.

He had to get out of there and get to Sam. Sam was still with Ruby, and he was going to try and take out Lilith by himself. Stupid bastard.

Danielle's voice cracked, and she set down the bible she'd grabbed, dropping her face in her hands and just sobbing. "Oh, God, _please_."

"Dan, you shouldn't listen to what that dick says," Dean said. The least he could do was damage control.

"You don't believe in God; you don't understand," Danielle retorted, shaking her head.

"No, you're right. But what does he know? It's not like he's at the top of the food chain."

"But he is," Danielle whined, more tears cascading down her cheeks as she clapped her hands together. "Oh, God, this is so hard. I don't know who to trust anymore. Please, show us someone who we can trust. Please…"

"You wished to speak with me?"

Dean jumped as Castiel appeared right in front of the window. His eyes stretched wide, and he shared an amazed glance with Danielle. "Okay, that was just a coincidence."

A smile spread across her face, and she started to cry in relief. "No, it wasn't. I knew He still existed. He hasn't given up."

Dean left Danielle to herself, turning to Castiel. He started to try and convince the angel, his attempts much more successful than Danielle's. Which, considering how close Cas and Dean were, wasn't much of a surprise.

"Why?" Castiel demanded, actually sounding angry. "What is so worth saving of humanity? I see into you; I see your pain, your grief, your loneliness!"

Danielle, who had now gotten herself together and was standing, jumped into the conversation. "And you've seen into me! I was your vessel; you know what makes me tick. And you know that I am happy more often than not. You know I don't have pain or grief buried in me!"

"So would you still be happy if I mentioned your parents?" he stabbed, making Danielle's heart pang. "Your sisters? Or if I spoke about your insecurities, or your trust issues?"

Cas got his expected response as tears rose in her eyes. "That doesn't matter," she argued. "Because I can still put a smile on my face, and I can go out and preach to the people who don't know God. I can still be happy, even with what baggage I have. I mean, think about _kids_, Castiel. Hundreds of thousands of innocent children who don't know the evil in the world. You'd kill them?"

"They'd be in peace!"

"You can take your peace and shove it up your lily-white ass," Dean snapped, making Danielle wince. "You spineless, soulless son of a bitch. What do you care about dying, you're already dead. We're done."

Castiel was torn, but he disappeared, leaving the room empty and quiet.

"Dean," Danielle whispered.

"I don't wanna talk," he growled, facing the wall. She hadn't missed how his voice had cracked in the middle of his sentence. She knew it had to be hard for him; Castiel had come to be seen as a friend for him.

"Dean, we have to get out of here. I saw what happens." It was Danielle's voice who broke now, and she looked at the ground, licking her lips. "I'm so scared," she confessed in a tiny voice.

"It's crap, Dan, all of it. That stuff's not solid; you can change the future."

"When has one of my visions not come true?" she demanded, looking up at him. "They always come true, and you know it."

"What happens, Danielle?"

"You don't wanna know," she muttered, dropping her gaze again. "It'll drive you mad. You'll kill yourself trying to get out of here."

"Dammit, Danielle, just tell me!"

"Killing Lilith _is_ the final seal," Danielle admitted, making Dean's blood run cold. "Sam is going to let out Satan."

"What else?" Dean whispered, knowing she was holding something back. "Dan, what else?"

"Sam's gonna die."

* * *

One Hour Later

The hole disappeared again, and Dean let out a harsh, "Dammit!" Nevertheless, he picked up the shelf and started whacking at the wall again. Danielle watched from her bed, chewing on her nail and frequently glancing down at the bible in her lap, which was opened to Revelations.

"At least things will be better," Danielle muttered, her voice hollow. "There won't be any pain or fear, just peace."

"Tell me something; when you died, was it all rainbows and unicorns?" Dean demanded.

"No," Danielle confessed. "But it was a very traumatic death; I don't even think I went all the way into Heaven."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I didn't… There weren't any pearly gates, or angels singing praises to the Lord. I didn't talk to God, or see God, or feel… God." She went silent, staring down at the bible in her lap.

"Exactly," Dean snorted, turning back to the wall.

"Heaven was … weird," she said. She hadn't told anyone what she'd seen in Heaven, because, in all honesty, it scared her. That dark room with the ominous pictures and the crushing feeling of loneliness. She couldn't imagine being stuck there for all eternity. She definitely didn't want to be.

Dean, realizing she wanted to talk, let the shelf hang at his side. Now wasn't really the time to be sitting around a campfire telling ghost stories, but it would be more productive than whacking at a wall that wasn't going to budge any time soon. "What was it like?"

"Weird," she repeated, her eyes flickering across the Bible in her lap. She chewed on her lip before meeting his gaze.

Dean frowned at the sight of her. She'd only gotten two hours of sleep and, despite the fact that the world would end at any second, he knew she was still exhausted. And her face showed it. Her skin was sallow and pale, lacking its usual tan luster. The bags under her eyes hadn't gone away, adding several years to her appearance. Her lips were turned into a frown and silver lines shimmered on her cheeks, revealing the paths her tears had taken.

"It was … An apartment room. And it was night time, and there was like a road down on the ground, outside the building …" She kept on explaining the heaven she'd gone to, her forehead wrinkled up the whole time as she spoke. She didn't even seem to notice that her hands were waving around her as she pantomimed the room. She told him everything, even about the pictures on the mantel. She just left out the picture of her and Cas. For obvious reasons, she was reluctant to tell him – or anyone – about that part.

"I mean, if Gabriel hadn't showed up and told me it was Heaven, I would've thought I was in Hell," she admitted.

Dean opened his mouth to respond before a wall of beige appeared in front of him, blocking him from sight.

Danielle gasped and flinched, the Bible sliding off her lap and onto the floor. The beige turned out to be a trench coat that grabbed Dean, slamming him against the wall and cupping a hand over his mouth. He swiveled his head around, blue eyes boring into Danielle's and telling her to _be quiet._

She just nodded, fearful eyes stretched wide as he pulled a dagger from inside the coat. He drew it across his arm, blood dripping onto the white carpet. Danielle looked away, feeling nausea tickle her stomach as Castiel began to don the brown wall with blood.

Danielle and Dean shared a shocked glance, wondering what the _heck_ was going on. Before they even had time to realize, to even think about anything, Zachariah appeared beside Danielle, eyes wide with rage.

"Castiel, what the hell are you doing?" the bewildered angel demanded.

Castiel, blue eyes wide as plates, slammed his hand in the middle of the sigil, blasting Zachariah away. "He won't be gone long," Castiel growled. "We have to find Sam."

Castiel turned to look at her. "Where is he?"

She shook her head, sliding off the bed and stepping on the Bible. She just glanced at it before kicking to the side. "This- This doesn't happen. What-"

"Danielle, _where is Sam?" _Castiel demanded.

"St. Mary's Convent, Maryland!" she exclaimed.

Suddenly, a piercing noise started echoing around them. A familiar blinding light shone in through all the cracks and crevices around the room, the floor shaking. Books started falling to the ground as the bulbs from the Christmas lights burst, sending sparks everywhere.

"It's the archangel!" Castiel bellowed. "I'll hold him off; stop Sam!" He reached forward, touching Dean and making him disappear.

"Gabriel, Gabriel stop!" Danielle shouted, still confused but knowing the archangel coming was _very, very_ bad. "Go away; I'm safe!"

"It's not Gabriel!" Castiel yelled. "It's …"

Danielle put her fingers in her ears, diving out of the way as the ceiling fan crashed down on her bed, nearly squishing her. "What?" she asked, missing what he'd said.

"It's Michael!" he exclaimed.

Danielle had no idea who Michael was; she'd never even heard of him. She fell to the ground as glass and debris rocketed around the room. She squeezed her eyes shut before she lost consciousness.

* * *

**Um...**

**HOLYYYYYY.**

**CRAZY chapter, guys. Freaking intense. Holy holy holy. Crazy crap, right?**

**Well, ****_finally_**** we got through with Season 4! Season 5 with a heaping side of angst, coming right up. (;**

**And, yeah, I'm posting again today... I'm just ****_so_**** excited, and I wanna catch y'all up to where I'm at now. (I'm writing the season 5 finale, and OHMIGOD the angst.)**

**Every time you review an angel gets his wings (:**

**NotCrazyJustWeird97: Yeah, Cas was getting pretty nasty wasn't he XD And yeah Sam could use a little shaking around too XD Hahah thanks for reviewing!**


	6. Judgement Day

**Chapter 5: **

**Judgment Day**

_"You are of your father the devil, and your will is to do your father's desires…" John 8:44_

The first thing Danielle heard was the sirens. It was soon followed by a crackling that she would never be able to misplace- the sound of burning wood.

Her eyes flickered open, a primal instinct of panic waking her up. Thick, black smoke filled her lungs, and she coughed and sputtered, gasping for fresh air.

"Cas?" she croaked, her voice nothing but a whisper in the roar of the fire. She could see the flames dancing in the corners of her eyes, casting a red glow on the blackened ceiling and walls. The heat seared her skin, and she could faintly hear shouts.

A face appeared over hers, but it was blurry and out of focus. His lips were moving, but Danielle couldn't hear anything.

"Cas?" she whispered, but the man didn't seem to answer her. He was speaking to her urgently, but Danielle couldn't bother to listen. She was too tired to try, plus her head hurt every time she tried to do anything. The only thing she cared about was finding Cas in the burning house, but she couldn't so much as turn her head.

The man bent down and scooped her up, and Danielle went into a severe coughing fit that ended with her passing out from lack of oxygen.

* * *

Ten Hours Later

"She's not doing very well," the nurse whispered, trying not to ogle at the two extremely handsome men. "All she does is sleep, read her Bible, and cry. She's refusing treatment."

The two boys shared a grimace. "Yeah, sounds like her," Dean agreed. "Can we see her?"

"I dunno…" the nurse muttered, glancing around. It was late into the night; she and a few other nurses were the only ones on service. "Visiting hours are way over."

"Please," Sam urged, fixing the woman with his infamous puppy-dog eyes. "She's our sister."

"Oh, alright," the nurse relented, blushing and leading the boys over to the door.

Danielle was sitting in the bed, eyes fixated closely on the Bible in her lap. She was wearing the same clothes as before, except they were black and red from the blood and smoke that covered her like a blanket. Her hair surrounded her head like a thick halo of chocolate tangles, and she seemed to have troubles breathing. Her darkened lips were moving, brow crinkled in frustration. A heart monitor and other medical equipment stood beside, just waiting for their chance to be used.

"Dan?"

Danielle's head snapped up, and her forehead softened in relief. "Oh, thank God," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "How'd you find me?"

"You're all over the news, princess," Dean said, coming over to the side of her bed and sitting down on the edge. He was definitely not in the mood to be nice to anyone, but seeing Danielle, alive and well, was enough to make his heart swell. Seeing her house on the news had sent him into a panic, and he was just thankful that she was still kicking and more-or-less uninjured.

Her eyes flickered over to Sam and lit up, a huge smile gracing her sooty face. "You're alive!"

"Yep," he said, mustering up a tiny smile for her. He patted the lump in the blankets where her foot was supposed to be. "So are you."

Danielle's smile fell, and her eyes dropped to the blanket. "Cas is dead," she said.

"How do you know?" Dean demanded.

Her melancholy eyes raised up to meet Dean's. "I'm not bleeding."

Dean glanced at the dried blood caked over Danielle and shook his head, standing up and walking away, rubbing his face.

"Please tell me y'all stopped it," she croaked, turning her pleading eyes to Sam.

Sam just dropped his gaze, and Danielle covered her face with her hands. She cupped her brow, wide eyes roving across the Bible in her lap. "Why are we still here?"

"Huh?" Sam asked, confused at her question.

"I thought… When Judgment Day comes, everyone one just kinda … dies," she said, bending over and staring at the shimmering pages.

"I think that part comes later," Dean said, coming back to her side. Both of the boys looked awful, worn down and exhausted. They were both struggling with the burden on their shoulders, already burnt out from the task set in front of them.

"So my vision didn't come true… Does that mean you didn't…?" She looked up at the younger Winchester, eyes shining with hope. It would make their lives so much easier if Sam hadn't actually let out the devil. But, by the way his face darkened with shame, and he stared down at his feet, Danielle knew it wasn't true. Her heart sank, and she shot him a sympathetic look. "It's not your fault."

He let out a strangled, humorless chuckle, glancing back up at her with stony eyes. "Oh, yeah it is."

"You didn't know," she said, and Sam wanted to say more, but he held himself back.

"So, will y'all sign my discharge papers? They won't let me do it myself; they gave me some painkillers and think I'm crazy." She rolled her eyes, and Dean patted her shoulder.

"Yeah, you don't need any painkillers to be crazy."

She scoffed, smiling and hitting his stomach.

"So what _do_ we do now?" Sam asked, glancing at his big brother.

Dean was aware of the two people looking expectantly at him, waiting for answers. He knew that for the two of them he served as the guy with all the answers. Dean always knew what to do. Dean would always be able to help them. But, to be honest, he was horribly overwhelmed. They had to take on _Lucifer. _

"Look, the devil is no different than any other son-of-a-bitch monster we'd have to kill. Where do we start when we're hunting anything?"

"Where it is," Sam stated.

"Yeah. We just gotta … find the devil."

"Should be easy," Danielle said, smirking a little. She struggled to get up, her muscles aching and head throbbing. Dean helped her to her feet and led her out to the little nurse's station out in the small lobby.

"Uh, what are you doing?" the nurse from earlier demanded, jumping up to her feet.

"I gotta go," Danielle answered, leaning against the counter and starting to fill out the discharge papers.

"No- You haven't been treated any! There's still blood in your hair!"

"I'll be fine; there's just minor scratches and contusions. Nothing a shower and some rest'll fix." She shot the nurse a confident smile, sliding the clipboard over to Dean, who scrawled a fake signature on the paper.

"But … the police want to talk to you!"

"Tell them that I don't know what caused the fire; the smoke knocked me out." Dean handed the clipboard to the nurse, and they started down the hallway, a boy on either side of the girl.

The nurse jumped up, calling after them: "What about the other guy?"

Danielle stiffened, sharing a wide-eyed glance with Dean. She didn't make eye contact with the nurse, just angled her head towards the nurse. "What other guy?"

"In the house. There was someone else with you; you weren't alone!"

Danielle swallowed the lump in her throat, overwhelmed by images of Castiel exploding into a million little blood-soaked pieces of flesh. "It was just me," she lied, her eyes cast on the white linoleum. "I was alone."

The trio turned and walked out of the hospital.

* * *

Three Hours Later

Danielle stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around her hair and body. She had a blank expression on her face and hovered near the bathroom door.

Sam and Dean shared a confused look. "Dan, you okay?" Dean asked. "You were in there for nearly two hours."

"I found a … tooth in my hair," she mumbled. "Should we have a funeral or tell someone or something?"

"Who are we going to tell?" Sam questioned, sympathizing with the girl. "He rebelled; all his friends are enemies now."

"We should say something, then," Danielle suggested.

"No," Dean refused, shaking his head. "There's nothing to say. He died for us; that's all."

Danielle pressed her lips together, knowing Dean didn't want to talk about it anymore. She went back into the bathroom and dressed in her pajamas, even though it was just past noon. When she came back out, she announced, "I have something to say," before crossing over to the bed and sitting Indian-style on the stiff mattress. Her wet hair hung messily to her waist, soaking her oversized shirt and dripping onto the comforter. "When I was knocked out at my house, I heard the angels talking, like a vision or something. They lost the Michael sword, but it's in a castle on a hill of forty-two dogs."

Dean blinked, furrowing his brow and leaning forward. "Sorry?"

"Danielle, did you hear that right?" Sam asked.

She shrugged, pushing her hair behind her shoulders. "I mean, I was unconscious, so maybe I messed it up, but I don't know."

Sam and Dean looked dubious, but Danielle didn't know what else to say. A couple hours and a fast food meal later, Bobby showed up with the Impala.

"Hey, Bobby," Danielle half-heartedly greeted as the man strode into the room, flopping down on the bed.

"How ya doin' hon'?" Bobby questioned, his eyebrows perking up in concern. "Dean told me 'bout what happened."

"Well, my house burned down along with all my irreplaceable childhood possessions, I had to go to the hospital - which was traumatic enough - I was kidnapped by angels, and my friend exploded right in front of my face. I don't think it's hit me yet," she finished, her lips curling into a sardonic smile.

Sam and Dean frowned. That was always her response: "It hasn't hit me yet." Maybe it hadn't, but what happened when it did? She never gave that away to the boys; despite the fact she was as open and easy to read as a book, she tried her hardest to be private. She didn't want to burden the boys with her problems.

"Here's what I found," Bobby said, plopping open one of the huge, leather-bound books he'd brought in. Sam and Dean leaned over the man's shoulders, peering at the book. Danielle stayed where she was, figuring she'd get a chance to look at it later.

"That there's Michael. He's the toughest son-o'-a-bitch they got," Bobby informed.

Danielle sat bolt upright, her brown eyes wide. "Michael's the one who killed Cas!" she exclaimed, rolling off the bed and striding over to the book. She squeezed in, staring at the picture of the golden-haired monster that had killed one of his own soldiers.

They were all silent for a moment, reflecting on the picture. "Well, he's the one who kicked Lucifer into the pit, and he'll be the one to do it again. With this sword."

Bobby flipped the page, tapping the long broad hand sword.

"And now we just have to find the castle on the dog hill. Sounds easy," Dean joked, sending a glance towards Danielle, who blushed.

"Shut up, that's what I heard. They're angels; they speak in riddles."

Dean snorted a laugh, and Sam shrugged in agreement. Dean and Danielle took a book, going over to the beds. Danielle pulled out her journal, starting a new page titled "Michael" under her angels section.

"You okay, kid?" they heard Bobby ask.

"Not really," came Sam's hesitant response. "Lilith didn't break the final seal. Lilith was the final seal."

Danielle shared a wide-eyed glance with Dean, turning to look over her shoulder at Sam and Bobby. She knew that Bobby was like a dad to them, but she didn't know how Bobby would take the news that his surrogate son started the end of the world.

"Sam," Dean warned.

"No, Dean," Sam argued, turning back to Bobby. "Killing Lilith broke the final seal."

Bobby's jaw dropped, and his eyes widened to an impossible degree. He slowly rose to his feet, a look of unbelievable horror masking his usual gruff scowl.

"I can't believe it," he muttered, stepping forward. "If by some miracle we survive this, I want you to lose my number, boy."

"Bobby!" Danielle gasped, her tone scolding and sharp. She sat up, not believing what she'd just heard. She wouldn't have been surprised with some anger, but she definitely was not expecting this.

"Don't you 'Bobby' me!" he snapped. "He started the damn end of the world!"

Danielle didn't respond, not wanting to make the man any angrier than he already was.

Sam took a ragged breath, and Danielle's heart panged at his teary gaze. "There's a church nearby. I think I'll go read some of the lore books there."

"You're damn right you will," Bobby agreed.

"I'll come with you," Danielle offered, jumping to her feet. She shot Bobby a mild glare, slipping on her customary flip-flops and grabbing her cell phone.

"Whoa, whoa," Dean stopped her, holding out a hand. He looked reluctant, yet his face was set in stone.

"What; why?" Danielle immediately demanded before she stopped. Dean flickered his gaze to the bruise still on her temple, and she let out a breath, rocking back on her heels.

Sam scoffed, a small, sardonic smile flitting across his face as he looked down. "Right."

"No," Danielle said, trying to go around Dean.

Dean held his hand up higher, keeping her from getting past him. He shot his brother a steadfast glare. "You should stay here, Dan."

"He's not gonna hurt me!" she protested, unable to even _fathom_ how Dean was acting. The _demon blood_ had twisted Sam around, but, since they'd let out Lucifer, he'd told her: no more cravings. He was fine!

"You don't know that," Dean argued, keeping his voice down. He was on the fence, fighting internally. Half of him didn't want to hurt his brother, but the other half didn't want Danielle to get hurt again.

"I do," Danielle promised, stepping around Dean.

Sam, staring at his feet, held out the jacket he'd been folding over his arms. It was his, and much too big for her, but she took it anyways. "You wanna change?" Sam asked, his voice low.

"No, I'm good," she responded, not caring about the huge shirt that went down almost to her knees or the sweatpants that had to be rolled up several times just to not drag on the ground. "Want me to drive?"

"No, I'm just gonna walk," he answered as they shut the motel door behind them.

"How far away is the church?"

"A block or so," he retorted with a shrug.

"Shoot, I didn't sign up for this!" Danielle joked, her voice boasting a shrill southern twang in her attempt to cheer Sam up.

Sam just trained his gaze straight ahead, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat. His hands were deep in his pockets, wrapping his jacket around his body like he always did when he was upset.

"He'll come around," Danielle promised. "I mean, I'm practically a total stranger, and I'm okay with it!"

"Are you?" Sam demanded. "Are you really? I hit you over the head with a _chair._" Sam snorted, shaking his head. "Dean was right; I can't be trusted."

"Like I said in the hotel: that wasn't you. That was the blood," she said, shaking her head in stubbornness. She knew Sam wouldn't hurt her, not this Sam at least. At least, that's what she thought she believed. But if he reached out to her, or if she was left alone in a room with him… No, she would be okay.

"_I_ drank the blood; I wanted it. That was my decision."

"Ruby tricked you," Danielle argued, knowing that the demon was dead from her vision. "And I know _that_ must be hard." She looked up at Sam, who looked so worn down that it broke her heart. She knew he'd loved Ruby, in some strange, twisted way. And, in a way, she'd rooted for the two of them. Something about forbidden love stirred up her romantic side. She'd been as clueless about Ruby's original purpose as everyone else.

Sam just shook his head, snorting humorlessly. "I'm used to it by now. The only person I can trust is Dean."

"And me," she said, a little offended that he'd elected to leave her out. But she could understand why; they weren't exactly family. Ruby was around much longer than she ever was, and look at how that had turned out.

Sam clenched his jaw, refusing to meet her gaze. "This is the end of times, Danielle. Everyone who dies from here-on-out; that's on me."

"No, Sam. The angels would have made it happen no matter what. Everything that's happened... it was destined. Planned out before you were even born. I mean, Azazel fed you demon blood when you were _six months old_. This was out of your hands."

"But I made all those choices. The angels didn't make me do all the right things; Ruby said it herself, I did everything they wanted!"

Danielle shook her head. "Sam, I'm starting to learn that no matter what we do, we play right into their hands. Angels, demons, whoever. So you picked all the right things, oh well! You didn't mean to, and that's enough for me."

Sam's jaw clenched again, and he kept his gaze straight ahead.

Danielle tried to ignore the fact how horribly, unmistakably screwed they were. The apocalypse was coming. The devil was out somewhere in the world, just waiting to descend and wreak havoc on the earth. Millions of people would die while the angels just hung back, admiring their handiwork. And the one actually decent angel was now nothing but ash- Just like Danielle's family. Danielle couldn't deny the irony; her family burned to death, then her, then Cas, then her house.

But, hey, at least now she didn't have to worry about the house note.

* * *

**Yes! Another update!**

**I'm just trying to get y'all caught up as quickly as possible; I'm on Chapter 36 (already) and have already finished all of season 5! Some fun (aka angsty) stuff coming up!**

**I'm going back and rewriting a little bit, so this might be the last chapter for a couple days. Something that should excite y'all: I'm adding another character. (; I'm gonna keep her mysterious just because it's more fun that way!**

**More info on my tumblr page "prophetsfordummies"! Link on my profile!**

**NotCrazyJustWeird97: Haha, ****_cr-azy _****drama! Thanks for reviewing! **


	7. Bambi

**Chapter 6:**

**Bambi**

_"Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable." Isiah 40:28_

* * *

Three Hours Later

"Wait a minute," Danielle said, holding out her arm and stopping Sam. She cocked her head, pushing her thick hair behind her ear in order to hear better. Just down the hall, she could hear muffled banging and shouts. "Hear that?"

Sam's face drained of color, and he sprinted towards the motel door. Danielle followed right behind, busting into the room.

"No," Sam gasped- whether it was at Bobby laying on the ground, knife in stomach, or Dean getting pummeled by a man, Danielle would never know. A girl with dark curly hair jumped forward, slamming Sam against the wall.

No one seemed to notice Danielle as she stared wide-eyed from the doorway. Danielle glanced around, looking for something to get them out of this situation. She felt the terror ice her joints, freezing her into place. But she refused to let the panic and fear stop her. The man in front of Dean was choking the life from the Winchester, and the woman was pummeling Sam, showing no mercy. Danielle was the only one who could help them. She was not going to let the ghouls-situation repeat itself. Her eyes fell on the knife embedded in Bobby's gut.

She darted past sailing fists and flying bodies, wrenching the knife from Bobby's body.

"Dean!" she exclaimed, sliding the knife across the floor to him.

Dean reached and grabbed it, effortlessly slamming it into the man's chest.

His body flashed from inside, like a light bulb being turned on from the middle of his body. His skeleton flashed before the man fell over dead, smoke rising from the wound.

Dean and Danielle turned to look at the other demon, who resembled a deer caught in headlights. Her fingers twitched before she threw her head back and black smoke streamed from her mouth.

"Bobby?" Danielle fell to her knees, pressing her hands against his stomach in an attempt to stop the bleeding. "What happened?"

"He stabbed himself," Dean answered, snatching a towel from off the bed and taking Danielle's place. "He was being possessed," he explained at her shocked gaze.

Danielle, lacking a flashlight, shone her cell phone into his eyes, watching as the irises rolled blankly upwards. She pocketed the phone, hoisting him up with difficulty. "Come on; we gotta get him to the ER."

"Where the hell was Gabriel?" Sam demanded, replacing Danielle and helping Dean carry Bobby to the car.

"I don't know," she answered, too bewildered and panicked to think about anything other than trying to help Bobby.

She kept pressure on the wound as best as she could until they got to the emergency room, handing Bobby over to the doctors. Danielle swallowed the lump in her throat, her stomach tight in fear. She couldn't stop thinking of the last time she'd delivered someone over to a hospital.

"The demons know where the sword is," Sam commented after they'd stood there for a few minutes.

Danielle dropped her gaze, understanding what Sam was implying. "We have to get it before they do," she voiced his thoughts. Dean looked completely opposed, raising a bewildered gaze. "There's nothing more we can do here," she gently reminded. "If we're gonna fight this fight, we might as well start off ahead of the angels."

Dean finally nodded, and they set off for upstate New York, headed towards the castle on the hill of forty-two dogs.

* * *

Seven Hours Later

Danielle could hardly believe what she was hearing. No, scratch that, she _didn't_ believe it. All this time, them keeping Dean alive, it was because he was _Michael's_ perfect vessel? He was the physical manifestation of the _Michael_ _sword_? How could they have left that precious little detail out of the puzzle?

"All right, how about we get really creative?" Zachariah asked, his face devoid of his usual smug smirk. Danielle felt her stomach roll; how much more creative could he get? He'd broken Sam's leg, given Dean cancer... Was she next?

"Let's see how sweet lil Dan does without her lungs."

Her chest suddenly constricted. She raised her brows in shock, trying to take a breath. No air. It was like she had a bag pressed against her mouth. She reached up, but there was nothing to pull away.

Her face was getting flushed as she made wheezing noises, dropping to the ground. She put her head between her knees, but it didn't help any. She started coughing, but it only made it worse.

She fell over to her side as a last-ditch effort, unaware of her surroundings. Her vision was starting to blacken and blur, and she had terrified tears of frustration brimming from her eyes.

Would she go back to the horrible Heaven from before?

As suddenly as it had started it stopped. She sucked in a huge breath, shoulders and chest heaving as she gasped the air. She rolled over onto her stomach, slowly pulling herself to her feet.

Her head was still spinning, and she turned to see a familiar angel standing where Zachariah had previously been. He was as stoic as ever, shoulders rising and falling and trench coat swishing around his legs. She wasn't sure she was _actually_ seeing him, blinking several times. He was still there, so she risked a tentative: "Castiel?"

He nodded towards her. "Danielle."

"What? How?" she asked, sharing a wonder-filled gaze with Sam and Dean.

"You three need to be more careful," Castiel warned, ignoring Danielle's question.

"I'm startin' to get that," Dean said. "Your frat brothers are bigger dicks than I thought."

"Not just the angels," he returned, while Danielle marveled. He had died, blown to pieces, ripped to shreds. How on earth was he just put back together again? "Lucifer is circling his vessel."

Castiel stepped forward, placing a hand on both boys' chests. They sputtered, wincing and staggering back.

"What the hell was that!" Dean demanded.

"I branded your ribs with Enochian. Now you'll be hidden from angels, demons, and Lucifer."

He turned towards Danielle, reaching out. She stepped back, pinning him with her wide eyes. He furrowed his brow, confused. He took another step towards her, and she mirrored his actions, stepping away.

"This will hide you from Gabriel," he said.

"It only lasts a second," Sam added.

She shook her head, stepping back again. "I- I don't think so," she said, shooting the boys with a nervous, wide smile. Her fingers twitched at her side, and her eyes never left the angel's outstretched hand.

"C'mon, Danny, it doesn't hurt that bad," Dean urged.

She inhaled, casting a fearful glance towards Dean, who nodded in encouragement, and shut her eyes. His rough hand brushed against the top of her chest, fingers touching her neck.

Her chest and stomach felt like they'd caught on fire – she would know – a sharp pain shooting up her body. She let out an involuntary gasp of pain, before opening her eyes and showing them an anxious smile.

"See, not that bad, huh?" Dean asked, feeling like he was a little kid again, urging Sam to eat something disgusting. It wasn't the worst feeling, and Danielle's smile made it all much better.

"Cas, how are you even alive?" Sam asked.

Castiel's eyes narrowed before they heard the rustling sound of fabric and he disappeared.

"What ... just happened?" Danielle wondered out loud.

Dean gritted his teeth, and Sam shook his head. The three headed straight back to the hospital, where Bobby was lucid and livid, yelling at any doctor unfortunate enough to step into the room.

"So, since Archy won't be able to find you anymore, we should probably teach ya how to shoot a gun," Dean remarked from where he was leaning against the wall.

Danielle looked up in surprise from the armchair the boys had graciously allowed her to use. "Where are we gonna do that?"

He shrugged. "Woods somewhere. We'll figure it out. Get some dirt under those manicured nails."

Danielle frowned at her nails. "They're just acrylic," she mumbled.

"That's so wrong," Sam commented, shaking his head in mock-shame.

"Oh, shut up!" Danielle called, laughing and tossing her hoodie at him.

He knocked it down, finding himself smiling. It'd been such a long time since he'd smile; surprisingly, now that their time was limited, things were starting to look up. Bobby didn't really hate him, no demons or angels could find him, Cas wasn't really dead. Though he'd lost Dean's hard-earned trust, the angels wouldn't stop until Dean agreed to be Michael's vessel, and Bobby might never walk again. All in all it'd been a pretty decent day.

There was no telling how many more "decent" days they would have.

* * *

Three Days Later

"You want something to eat?" Danielle questioned, sitting on the bed beside Bobby's wheelchair. "I heard they have some _killer_ pudding," she teased, even though she wasn't expecting an answer.

She sobered, her smile dropping to a frown as the man ignored her, blank stare fixed on the window. She glanced over to the doorway, shaking her head to answer Dean's inquisitive glance. He sighed, turning his gaze back to Sam and mumbling something.

"Bobby, I know you're depressed but, trust me, it'll get better. And that's not just coming from a sympathetic friend; you know just as well as anyone that I was depressed too."

Bobby didn't answer, staring straight ahead, his scowl carved into his beard.

Danielle looked back up to see Castiel standing in the doorway. She shot him a closed smile in greeting. "Hey, Cas."

Bobby's head suddenly perked up, and he spoke his first words in three days: "Well what are you waitin' for? Come over here and lay your damn hands on me!"

Danielle blinked in surprise, folding her leg under her on the bed as Castiel stepped into the room. "I ... can't."

Bobby tensed, clumsily turning his chair around. "What the hell do you mean?" he growled.

"I've been cut off from Heaven, as well as most of my powers. Some things, I can do. Some things, I … can't."

"You mean you lost your mojo just in time to get me stuck like this for the rest of my life?!" Bobby demanded, his voice rising.

"Bobby," Danielle whispered as a warning, flicking her eyes up towards Cas, whose gaze was downcast.

"I really am sorry," Castiel repeated.

"Shove it up your ass," Bobby barked gruffly.

"Bobby!" Danielle exclaimed. "There's nothing he can do."

Bobby ignored her, shaking his head and staring furiously at the ground. Danielle shot the angel an apologetic look, standing up and joining the tight circle the boys had formed.

"Your plan to kill the devil is foolish," Castiel stated.

"Am I the only optimist around here?" Danielle mumbled, pushing her wild bangs behind her ears.

"But I know of someone who can. Someone stronger than Michael; the same person who resurrected me and put you two on that plane. God."

Danielle's eyes widened, and she stared at him in disbelief.

"I'm gonna find God."

They were all stunned into silence for a minute, blinking at the angel with dropped jaws.

"Uh- Where?" Danielle managed to choke out.

"Try Mexico; I hear he's on a tortilla."

Danielle snorted, her face splitting into a wide grin despite the seriousness of their conversation.

Her laughter made Castiel even more confused. He just shook his head, brow furrowed. "No, he's not on any flatbread."

Danielle snorted again, surprised that no one else was humored by their conversation.

"Okay, even if God's alive, He doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us."

"Clearly he cares enough to put Cas back to life and make sure you and Sam stay alive," Danielle argued.

"No, he doesn't!" Dean said. "He's off somewhere drinkin' booze out of a coconut!"

"Dean!" Danielle gasped.

"Enough," Castiel growled, stepping forwards. His eyes flashed, and he actually looked angry. "I killed _two_ angels this week. My brothers. I rebelled. I was cut off, and I did it - all of it - for you."

Danielle blinked in surprise. She hadn't even thought about it that way. Truthfully, she hadn't thought about him any the past few days. She'd been focused on dealing with Bobby and making sure Sam didn't sink too far into the void of self-hate and guilt. She'd known the angel liked Dean, but he was more impassive than anything else towards her and Sam. But he'd given up _everything_ for them. His whole world had shifted, and now he was as lost as the humans that had changed his perspective. But not only did he have to deal with turning against his own race, he was losing the powers that made him an angel.

"You, your brother, and your prophet destroyed the world. And I lost everything. For nothing."

Danielle's heart panged, and she dropped her gaze, overcome with sympathy for the angel. "Cas, why don't you take a day? Or a week?" Danielle gently suggested. "I mean, you just _died,_ and now you're back and ready to try and find God?" Danielle didn't mention how crazy the angel's task sounded; if God didn't want to be found, then he wouldn't be found.

"I am not crazy," Castiel pointed out.

Danielle's jaw dropped. "Did you just read my mind?!"

He furrowed his brow in confusion at her offended tone, bobbing his head once. "Yes?"

"So what'd ya really come here for?" Bobby interrupted, keeping Danielle from going on a spew on how absolutely rude and creepy it was to read minds.

"An amulet. Very powerful. Very rare. It glows in God's presence."

Danielle's gaze flickered down to the only amulet she owned: the cross necklace resting just below her collarbones. There wasn't anything rare about her necklace, so what was he talking about?

"I don't have anythin' like that," Bobby stated.

"You don't," the angel stonily agreed, his gaze moving down to Dean's chest. Danielle furrowed her brow; she didn't even know Dean wore a necklace. "Can I borrow it?"

"No," Dean immediately barked.

"Give it to me," Castiel ordered, sounding for all the world like a little kid. Clearly the angel needed a lesson in manners.

It took him a moment, but Dean eventually handed the necklace over with strict orders not to lose it. Castiel took the necklace and disappeared without another word.

* * *

Three Hours Later

"I might have a job for you two," Bobby said, hanging up the phone. "My pal Rufus is holed up in a city in Colorado, says the whole thing is overrun by demons."

Danielle perked up, opening up Sam's laptop. "What city?"

"River's Pass."

Danielle's fingers flew as she sailed through web pages, opening up a news report. She started chewing her lip, furrowing her brow at the screen.

"There hasn't been any news for a few days," she remarked.

"Doesn't mean there's no demons," Dean protested, coming around behind her.

"No, I mean there's no news at all. Nothing. No deaths, no lottery wins, nothing. It all stopped..." She leaned forward, squinting at the screen before her face fell. She looked up at Sam and Dean with wide eyes. "The day Satan got out."

Grim looks were cast around the room, and Danielle froze, a chill running down her spine. "Is Satan in Colorado?" she whispered, like it was some earth-shattering secret.

Sam shook his head. "Probably not. He'd have a hell of a lot more done."

"Yeah, it'll be freakin' Las Vegas," Dean agreed, grabbing his keys out of his pocket and heading towards the door, Sam on his tail.

"Wait for me!" Danielle exclaimed, running to the other side of the room and grabbing her wallet and flip-flops.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What do you think you're doin'?" Dean demanded, blocking the doorway.

"I'm coming with you!"

He chuckled like the very idea was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "No way, José. You don't have Archy anymore; you'll just end up being someone else we'll have to save!"

Danielle shook her head. "Oh, c'mon! Please!"

"Danielle, you'll just get hurt," Sam pointed out sympathetically. "Have you ever even shot a gun?"

She frowned. "So I just sit here with Bobby?"

"He'll keep an eye out for you. Stay outta trouble, princess," Dean ordered, pointing accusingly at her.

"I don't get into trouble; it finds me," she reminded, pouting. She was useless, she knew that, but she'd hoped that not freezing up when they'd saved Bobby would earn her some points. They were right, though, and she let it go. "Y'all be careful."

"Yep. You too," Sam answered, following Dean, who threw a casual wave over his shoulder. They must've been confident that they would make it home again, because she was expecting much more of a goodbye.

Danielle sighed, turning to look at Bobby. "How 'bout that puddin'?" she teased, hands on hips.

Bobby scoffed, rolling his eyes, but she saw the smirk hidden in his beard.

* * *

"Exorcism. Go."

Danielle glanced up at Bobby from her bible, her brow furrowing. "Uh..." She started chanting it, slowly, hesitantly.

Bobby reprimanded her, correcting her on her pronunciation and the misplacement of a word here and there. He shook his head, scowling deeply from under his cap.

"Sloppy, sloppy," he mumbled under his breath. "Bet you can't even draw a demon trap."

"Can too!" Danielle protested sharply. She snatched up one of the scratch pages spread out on the small table, uncapping her purple pen and perfectly replicating a devil's trap. She ended it with a flourish, proudly showing to Bobby.

Bobby wheeled over, squinting at the paper. He made little snarky comments about little curlicues and what not, but Danielle knew she'd done good.

Bobby set the paper back down on the table. "Now what about the other one?"

"The super hard one?" she groaned. There was one that was relatively simple to remember (a star with different sigils surrounding it) while the other one closely resembled a visual manifestation of the Book of Revelations. Which, amidst Bobby's sporadic demon pop quizzes, Danielle was trying to decipher.

"You have to learn both of 'em!" Bobby barked, and Danielle dropped her head on her arm with an over exaggerated groan. Bobby had her doing crap like that all day for the past two days; since her archangel was gone, she had to become able to protect herself. And in order to do that, she had to become a hunter.

"Seems like you two are gettin' along fine."

Danielle's head popped back up, a wide grin splitting across her face as she jumped to her feet. "Dean!" she exclaimed. Her smile quickly faded, a huge knot tying itself in her stomach. "Where's Sam?" she asked, expecting the worse.

Dean scowled. "He... We decided to part ways for a little while."

Danielle shared a disbelieving look with Bobby, who was clearly about to pitch a fit. "Are you kiddin' me?" the man gruffly demanded, every bit as impressive from his wheelchair as standing up. "It's the end of the world, _boy_, and you're givin' up what precious little time left, for what? Because the road got a little bumpy? You better buckle up, kid, 'cause it ain't gonna get any easier from here on out."

Dean looked at Danielle expectantly before his scowl got even deeper. "What, you'll defend Cas, but not me!"

Danielle's eyebrows were pinched up in concern. She knew that the boys were struggling; it didn't take a genius to figure that out. But she hadn't expected them to actually split up. "I agree with him," she said morosely. "You're an idiot for not taking advantage of what little time you have left."

Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head and shrugging away from the doorframe. "Well, I just was gonna let you know. See ya around."

The brunette's eyes widened as a squirm of fear made itself known in her gut. "Wait!" she exclaimed, chasing him out into the hallway. "Where are you going?!"

Dean shrugged. "There might be a vampire over in Pennsylvania."

"A hunt?" Danielle questioned, her eyes lighting up in excitement. She glanced at the doctor who walked by, grabbing Dean's arm and pulling him aside. "You're gonna go hunt vampires while the world is ending?" she whispered.

"Can't think of a better way to go," Dean joked.

"Shouldn't we be doing something else? Like, I don't know, looking for the devil!"

"There's nothing else we can do. We'll keep our eyes peeled, and, in the mean time, we'll gank as many monsters as we can."

Danielle sighed, shooting him a patronizing look.

"And by we, I mean me," Dean clarified. Danielle scoffed, about to argue, but Dean shook his head. "You're gonna stay here with Bobby."

"What about teaching me how to shoot? Now would be the _perfect_ time! And, for right now, I won't do the actual _hunting_. I'll just do the interviews and all the boring research stuff," she proposed before clapping her hands together and turning pleading eyes on Dean. "Please...?"

"Okay, would you stop that?" he demanded merely seconds after being pinned with her Bambi-look. He shrugged his shoulders, messing with his collar. "It's just creepy. Yes, fine, you can go."

"Yes!" Danielle cheered, punching a fist into the air before scuttling back into Bobby's room. She collected all of her things and waved goodbye to the old man before following Dean out to the Impala.

* * *

**Sorry for the filler-ness of this chapter! Next one is when things start to get real good (;  
And I know I promised a new character but ... As much as I love this unnamed mystery character, I love Danny too, and this is her story. I didn't wanna take away from that, so maybe sometime down the road I'll write the story with my unnamed character. So no new character! **

**NotCrazyJustWeird97: Haha, I feel the same way, trust me.. Nothing's better than Cas and Dan! XD**


	8. The WIld Adventures of Dan, Dean, & Cas

**Chapter 7**

**The Wild Adventures of Dan, Dean, & Cas**

_"But the prophet who presumes to speak a word in my name that I have not commanded him to speak, or who speaks in the name of other gods, that same prophet shall die." – Deuteronomy 18:20_

* * *

They'd decided to swing by the old house in order to pick up a few things that they would need, including weapons and Danielle's stuff.

"So… What exactly are we doing out here?" Danielle asked, turning around in a circle and assessing the back part of the junkyard. If she'd thought the bit around the house was in bad shape, the back was completely dilapidated. The cars were disintegrating into ash, slowly being taken over by grass and weeds. If one happened to touch a tire with any pressure, it would crumple to nothing but bits of thin rubber.

"You," Dean started, dropping the duffel bag he'd brought on the ground. He crouched down, unzipping it and pulling out a handgun. He dropped the magazine, quickly checking to make sure it was loaded, before standing up and handing it to her. "Are going to learn to shoot."

Danielle was taken aback, blinking with wide eyes. "You're actually going to teach me?"

"Yeah," Dean answered, smiling kindly and shaking the gun. She reached forward, hesitantly taking it and making sure to keep the muzzle pointed towards the ground. "It's about damn time you learn to take care of yourself."

"I can-" Danielle started to protest before meeting Dean's gaze. She smiled, letting out a breathless laugh and shaking her head. "Yeah, I can't do crap."

"Not yet," he retorted, stepping over the bag and coming up to her. "You'll be Annie Oakley before you know it."

Danielle glanced up at him, snorting. "We'll see about that."

"Challenge accepted," he replied, leaning forward slightly and smirking at her. She smiled, and Dean pointed to the gun. "What is that?"

"Uh … a gun?" she answered, eyebrows cocked.

"It's a semi-automatic pistol," he corrected. His finger hovered over the hammer. "And that?" She just stared at it blankly, and Dean sighed. "It might be quicker for you to tell me what parts you do know."

"I can do that," she returned, shooting him a wide grin. "This is the muzzle and/or barrel. Um…" She licked her lips, furrowing her brow. "And this is the trigger." She looked back up at him proudly. "Did I pass?"

Dean shook his head in disbelief, chuckling slightly. He'd known Danielle was a civilian, and it would be no easy task teaching her how to be a soldier, but he'd always imagined that she would just pick things up as she went along. He didn't actually know how much time him and Bobby and Sam would have to invest in sharpening her skills (if she even had any), but he could see now it would be a lot more than he'd wanted to. "Have you ever even held a gun before, Dan?"

She looked up, pursing her lips as she appeared to be deep in thought. "Once, I think," she answered with a brisk nod.

"Great," Dean muttered with a sigh.

"If you don't wanna do this-" Danielle started, not wanting him to be wasting his time. She had hinted several times she wanted to be trained, at least how to shoot, but she never actually thought they'd take her up on her offer. She was skeptical to the whole thing; she was a fast learner but guns? Fighting? She'd always thought that if it came down to it, she could fight… maybe. But definitely not against someone who was trained, or someone who had been in hundreds of fights. She knew it would take a long, _long _time for her to actually be able to do anything, and with the apocalypse hanging over their heads, who had time to train her?

"No, no, we need to," Dean answered, his breath pooling from his lips in a faint mist. He pointed at a car that was maybe forty yards from them, with half a dozen or so empty beer bottles resting precariously on the roof of the car. He led her closer, until they were about twenty or so yards. "Alright, don't shoot, just point."

She raised her gun, trying her best to aim. She looked awkward and felt even more awkward.

"Don't lock your elbows," Dean instructed, pushing down on her arms. "Hold one hand here, and the other here. Turn just a little."

"Like this?"

"Yep. What are you aiming at?" Danielle threw him a startled glance, chocolate eyes stretched wide. He sighed in exasperation. "Pull the trigger."

"Uh…" Confused, she pressed her lips together and pressed her finger against the trigger. The gun nearly jumped straight out of her hands, a powerful kick rocking up her arms and jolting her shoulder. She gasped in pain, staggering backwards and dropping the gun as she clutched her shoulder. "Good-" she choked out, shaking her head.

"Careful; it has a kick to it," Dean warned.

"Yeah, you're about to have a kick in it!" Danielle retorted.

Dean furrowed his eyebrow, and Danielle glanced up at him, grinning. "Okay that didn't come out right."

"That's an understatement. Did you even look to see where the bullet went?" he asked, picking up the gun.

Danielle straightened up, moving her arm around in circles and hissing. "No, sorry, I was distracted by my arm _blowing_ _off_."

Dean rolled his eyes, handing her the gun. "Don't be so dramatic, princess."

"Princesses are known for being dramatic," she smart-alecked, taking the gun.

"Well, you shot a tree. Way back there. Aim." Danielle did as she was told, and Dean stood behind her, leaning over her shoulder and positioning her arms. "See, you wanna aim using the sights. Like that."

"Shoot?"

"Yep," Dean answered, covering his ears as Danielle pulled the trigger.

One of the glasses shattered, and she threw her hands victoriously up into the air. "Yeah!" she shouted triumphantly, her grin infectious.

Dean felt the corners of his mouth shoot up at her clear excitement, and he shook his head. "Don't get too excited. I practically pulled the trigger for you."

"Shut up," she retorted, still beaming from ear to ear as she turned back. She set up the next bottle in her sights, looking questioningly at Dean.

He held up his hands, shaking his head again. He was starting to lose count of how many times he'd shaken his head. "I can't do everything for you."

She turned back, her brow furrowing in concentration. She pulled the trigger, and it whizzed by the bottle, scooting it back but not breaking it. She moved her muzzle half a centimeter to the right and shot again. This time, the glass exploded as the bullet made contact.

"Yeah!" she screamed again, jumping up and down. "I'm a _boss!"_

"Kids these days," Dean mumbled jokingly, even though Danny was only a couple years younger than Sammy.

"What next?" she asked, looking at him with excitement shining in her wide eyes.

* * *

They made a pretty excellent team, if Danielle said so herself. He was the brawns, and she was the brains (even though he knew more about all the supernatural stuff than she did). And she was quickly catching on to Dean's shooting lessons, which they squeezed in between dressing up as FBI agents and swinging by a greasy burger joint.

Danielle loved every minute of it.

Dean was enjoying being able to relax a little; Danielle was never there for any of the dangerous parts. He got to decapitate the vampire, or set the rugaru on fire, and Danielle was fine with that. They had a system set up.

Plus, Danielle was just good company. She laughed at all of Dean's jokes (_every single one_), and she seemed to have some sixth sense that let her know whenever he was upset. In which she would give him some space, which he appreciated more than words allowed. She was (almost) a doctor too, and she came in handy more than once on their cases.

They were in a motel that Danielle had picked out (Dean had been training her in the art of finding cheap, low-scale restaurants/motels), and Dean was scrubbing away at his jacket while Danielle was making sandwiches (all sexist jokes aside) in the little kitchen area.

"Dean, you wanna trade?" Danielle whined as a bit of the mustard got onto her fingers. She frowned in disgust at the condiment, trying her hardest not to gag. She'd wash blood out of clothes over dealing with mustard any day.

"Hello, Dean."

The gravelly voice made Danielle violently jump, squeezing the mustard bottle instinctively. The cap flew off, ricocheting off the wall and popping her in the cheek. She took a step back in surprise, stepping right into the quickly growing puddle of mustard on the floor. He feet flew out from under her, and she ended up lying on her back on the floor, mustard nearly covering her from head to toe.

"And that is why you don't just freaking pop in!" Danielle shouted, turning to look at the angel. Dean was bent over at the middle, wheezing for air and red in the face as he guffawed.

Danielle started laughing too, slowly picking herself up off the floor. "Man, I _hate_ mustard, too!"

That set Dean off on another round of hysterics, and he had to sit down on the bed in an attempt to catch his breath.

"Sorry," Castiel stated, no trace of humor anywhere on his face.

"It's fine; I'm not mad," Danielle reassured, wiping at the tears from laughing on her cheeks. She grabbed a towel and began to attempt to clean up the mess that was now the kitchen.

"So, how's the hunt for God going?" Dean asked, finally recomposed.

"Not well," Castiel answered truthfully. "But there is word of someone who might know where He is."

"Who?" Danielle questioned, pulling her hair back into a loose bun resting at the base of her neck.

"An archangel."

Danielle's eyes went huge, and she sat up on her knees. "Michael?!" she demanded.

"No, Raphael," he answered.

"Oh, so we're going after a teenage mutant ninja turtle?" Dean didn't have to wait long for Danielle's snort of amusement as she struggled not to laugh. He smirked, proud that his joke hadn't just fallen, like they tended to do with Castiel.

"This is an incredibly rare opportunity," Castiel explained. "This is the first time he's been seen in a vessel in thousands of years. I need your help. Both of you," he added, glancing around Dean at the woman who was gagging at the smell of mustard.

"Why?" Dean asked for both of them.

Danielle finally gave up, not even bothering to wipe the mustard off her shirt as she headed over to them.

"Because you're the Michael vessel, and you're the prophet. They'd never hurt you."

"Oh, so we're shields now?" Dean accused.

"Also because you two are the only ones who would help me," Castiel stated, making Danielle's heart pang in sympathy.

Danielle shot Dean a patronizing look over Castiel's shoulder, and he sighed, throwing his hands into the air. "Fine. So where is ole Ralphy?"

"Maine." Cas raised his fingers, reaching for Dean's brow.

"Whoa!" Dean batted the angel's hand away, stepping out of reach. "Last time you did that, I didn't poop for a week." - pause for Danielle's short laugh - "We're driving."

Castiel looked confused, but he nodded anyways.

"I call shotgun!" Danielle exclaimed, grabbing her bag and sprinting out the door.

"A shotgun would be very ineffective against an archangel," Castiel pointed out to Dean.

"She knows that. She means ..." Dean trailed off, shaking his head and shouldering his bag. "Never mind."

* * *

Seven Hours Later

"Is this up to your standards, princess?" Dean teased, noticing Danielle's disdainful glances around the abandoned house.

"I think this would be really cool if it were clean ... and the bugs were gone," she said, eyeing a spider web up in the corner.

Castiel suddenly popped in a good distance away, making Danielle inhale sharply and flinch. "Cas-!"

"I tried," he stated, and Danielle just shook her head.

"You give me anxiety," she pointed out, heading over to the table, where he set down an old vase.

"Where'd you go?" Dean asked.

"Jerusalem."

Danielle's jaw dropped. "Nuh-uh!"

Castiel's brow furrowed in confusion - a look Danielle was quickly becoming very familiar with - and he slightly tilted his head. "Yes, I did."

"What was it like?" Danielle asked, an excited gleam in her eyes.

"Arid," he retorted, taking a seat. Danielle frowned, dissatisfied with the answer. She picked up the vase, carefully examining it as Castiel explained its uses. She set it down, not trusting herself to not break it.

"So, what are the chances of us surviving this?" Dean asked.

"For you two, it's certain. For me, there is no chance."

Danielle's heart panged. She hadn't actually thought of someone not making it out. "But God'll just bring you back," she pointed out, though she sounded unsure. "Clearly he wants you alive."

Castiel just gave a faint shrug of his shoulders.

"So, your last night. What are your plans?"

Castiel glanced up at Dean. "Well, I was just going to sit here quietly," he answered, as if doing something productive would have been out of the question.

"No booze, women?"

Castiel quickly looked away.

"Wait, you have been with a woman, right?"

Castiel rubbed his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the subject change. "I've never had occasion," he retorted.

"Oh my-" Dean broke off, his eyes landing on Danielle. "You have, right?"

She flushed scarlet, shaking her head. "You're s'posed to wait 'til you're married."

"Well, why don't the two of you, you know." Dean smirked widely. "And get it over with."

If he'd thought Danielle was blushing before, that was nothing compared to the hue she was taking on now. Castiel's eyes were stretched wide, and he seemed to have lost all color in his face.

"Dean!" Danielle whined. "Stop!"

"Why? It'll clear up _all_ of your problems." He winked, and Danielle quickly turned around, shaking her head.

"You are impossible!" she exclaimed, unable to hold back her laughing.

"Okay, fine. Well I'm gonna go get Cas laid. We'll meet you at…" Dean trailed off, his smile fading. He closed his eyes, letting out an irritated sigh.

"What is it?" Danielle and Cas asked at the same time. Danielle shot the angel a bewildered look. "It's like we're twins!" she exclaimed.

Castiel furrowed his brow, shaking his head. "No, we're not."

"Alright, Dan, you gotta come with us," Dean said.

"To go get Cas some action? I don't think so," Danielle shot back.

Dean raised his eyebrows, and she raised her eyebrows right back, just daring him to say something else. He couldn't help but let out an amused snort, and Danielle giggled, standing up. She fell into step next to Dean, leaving Cas to follow and wonder what exactly had just happened between the two humans.

Danielle, fortunately, got to wait in the car while Cas and Dean went in the brothel.

* * *

After Castiel's miserable bust at the brothel, they had gone back to the hospital and set up a trap for Raphael. After almost an hour of waiting, they decided that Raphael wasn't going to show up ... there. They put out the fire, heading back to the abandoned house.

Danielle led the way into the building before an exceedingly bright flash nearly blinded her. Someone grabbed her, picking her clean off her feet and setting her behind them. She let out a panicked shriek, staring at Castiel's back, which was now in front of her.

"Raphael," Castiel called.

A loud clap of thunder shook the now-dark building, rattling the windows as the skies opened up, pouring rain on the dilapidated house.

Dean shut the door behind them, stepping into the living room. "And I thought you were supposed to be impressive. All you do is black out a room?" he challenged in obvious disdain.

"And the entire eastern seaboard."

And Danielle had found Castiel's voice intimidating? Raphael's voice was utterly _terrifying_, and the vessel that had previously seemed helpless was now towering over them all.

Danielle's heart was pattering in her chest worse than a machine gun. Castiel even looked fearful, and that was enough to send her into a spiral of terror. She was more than happy to cower behind the two men, trying her hardest not to be seen by the archangel.

"It's a testament to my mercy that I don't smite you right here," he growled. The howl of the wind sent shivers down the girl's spine, and she was starting to feel very claustrophobic in the dark house.

"Or you're just full of crap," Dean smarted off.

Danielle clenched her jaw, her chest constricting. How he was even managing to speak was some kind of mystery; Danielle could hardly breathe.

"Maybe you're afraid God'll bring Cas back, and smite you in your candy-ass skirt."

Danielle let out a tiny noise that was a mix between someone choking and a small animal being strangled. Dean kept his hard glare on Raphael until the angel looked to Cas before glancing back at Danielle.

"You okay?" he mouthed.

She faintly shook her head, face devoid of any color as she cowered behind Castiel.

"What's stopping me from taking you directly to Michael?" the archangel threatened.

"Hate to tell ya, but I'm not goin' anywhere with you," Dean promised, going over to the cooler and taking a sip of some liquid courage.

"Surely you remember Zachariah giving you stomach cancer? He doesn't have anywhere close to my ... imagination."

"I bet you didn't imagine one thing," Dean stated. "We knew you were coming, you stupid son of a bitch."

He dropped the match on the oil, and Danielle let out a sigh of relief as the flames shot up, trapping the angel. She put her hands on her knees, bending over and attempting to calm her wild heart.

"Uh-uh," Dean reprimanded, pulling her up by her shirt. "Don't show fear," he muttered, his back to the angel.

"Where is He?" Castiel demanded.

"God? Haven't you heard?" The fire cast an eerie glow onto his dark face, and Danielle couldn't help but feel anxious near the flames. "He's dead, Castiel."

A loud crack of thunder came from the sky, sounding like a whip. The house quivered, and Danielle's heart sank down to her feet.

"Dead."

"No, He's not," Danielle snarled. Dean glanced at her in surprise; he'd honestly thought she was going to pass out at any minute. "Nothing can kill God."

"And the little mouse finds her voice," Raphael sneered, sending chills down her spine. She faltered, her sudden courage dying down. "There is no other explanation. Do you remember the twentieth century? Do you think the twenty-first is going any better?"

"Nothing can kill God!" Danielle repeated, but it sounded more like a child's whine than an argument. "He's _God_!"

"You think God would have let that all happen if we were still alive?" Raphael demanded.

Dean jumped into the conversation, making jokes and snide comments. Danielle's heart ached, and she just wanted the conversation to be over with. She refused to listen; Satan being on the prowl was bad enough, now she was expected to just believe that God was dead/uncaring/missing?

"Whatever we want, we get," Raphael snarled, and the window behind them suddenly shattered.

Danielle yelped, finding herself cocooned between Cas and Dean. She was trembling, and she wanted desperately to just go home.

Rain poured in through the window, quickly soaking the trio. The rain was freezing, making Danielle grit her teeth and resist the urge to step closer to the fire.

"If God is dead, who brought me back?" Castiel demanded, having to shout to be heard over the wind.

Raphael, however, kept his voice eerily quiet. Even though it was low, it pounded through Danielle's ears. "Have you ever considered that maybe it was the work of Lucifer? He needs all the rebellious angels he can get."

"You're wrong!" Danielle shouted, her voice breaking.

"Am I?" he challenged.

"Yes! I would have seen it!" she argued, the wind whipping her hair around her face. Dean took a step aside to miss the swinging ends.

"You haven't even realized have you?" he sneered.

"What are you talking about?" Dean bellowed.

"We took away your abilities," he cruelly stated, his voice as cold and harsh as the wind. "You misused them. You are no longer a prophet."

* * *

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror. Danielle was looking out the window, nose and eyes red. He knew she was crying, but she was trying to put on a good front.

"Dan, you good?" he asked.

She sniffed, nodding. "Yeah. You?"

"Fine."

"Cas?"

Castiel blinked, surprised to have been addressed. "I'm ... disappointed," he answered honestly. "I hoped Raphael would have answers."

"We all did," Dean stated. "Hey, I happen to know a few things about absent fathers. There were times when I was looking for my dad and every fact, every detail logically said he was dead. But I knew in my heart he wasn't."

Dean had Danielle's and Cas's unrivaled attention. "What do you believe?"

Cas looked away for a moment, thinking. "I believe He's out there."

"Then you go find him," Dean urged.

Castiel seemed to cheer up a little. "How are you?" he asked, turning to Dean.

Dean sighed, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel. "I'm surprisingly... good. I'm really good. I mean, I've had more fun with you two then I've had in years with Sam. And you aren't that much fun."

Danielle let out a little cough in the backseat, and Dean corrected himself: "Dan is fun; you aren't."

"But don't you miss your brother?"

"Of course I do. But I was spending so much time worrying about Sam that I didn't get to do the job right."

"Don't you have to watch out for Danielle?" Castiel questioned.

"She doesn't hunt with me," he replied. "Tonight was the most danger she's been in weeks."

Castiel just nodded before suddenly disappearing, leaving Danielle and Dean alone.

"Wanna come sit up here?" Dean asked.

"I'm fine," she answered with a sniff.

"No, y'see, that was just me being polite. I'm gonna preach to you, so get your butt up here."

Danielle sighed, crawling up into the front seat. She plopped down, keeping her gaze cast towards her feet.

"Stop that. Stop all that crap right now. You need to man up. If you're in this, you better be in it. You can be sad, but you gotta deal with that on your own terms. You can be scared, but you sure as hell don't let the other guy know that. You understand?"

She gave a dazed nod, eyes wide at his sudden tirade.

"You have got to learn to have a backbone. If Cas gives you a look, you freakin' give him one back! If I make you mad, you have every right in the world to get pissed and yell. You don't just have to take it. And for God's sake don't be afraid to throw an insult here or there! Got it?"

Danielle chewed on her lip, but she nodded.

"Next time I see you being a wimp, I'll personally beat your ass," he warned, deliberately adding the curse to see what she would do.

She picked up her morose stare, sighing. "It's butt," she corrected. "_Moron_."

"Atta girl," Dean praised, turning his gaze ahead.

They were quiet for a long time. Dean was just about to turn on the radio to kill the silence, but Danielle sniffed, rubbing her nose and looking at him. "So, did you really mean it?"

"Mean what?" Dean shot back.

"About Sam." Danielle didn't miss Dean's quiet sigh, the way he seemed to deflate like a balloon at the mention of his brother. "I know you miss him," she added in a quieter tone.

"Yeah," he admitted, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel. "I'm just not bending over backwards trying to get him back."

"Why?" she asked, face scrunched up in befuddlement. "I mean, trust me, I had three sisters. I _completely _understand the whole fighting thing but … You two are … You have to deal with a lot," she said, and Dean made the mistake of glancing over at her, seeing the pain and sympathy shining in her eyes. He looked away, wondering how Danielle always seemed to be able to see right through him.

"You'd never let anything happen to your sisters," Dean stated, and Danielle's gaze dropped. He didn't want to bring it up, but she had brought it up first, so he figured he might as well continue the analogy. "You're the oldest too. I just don't want Sammy to get hurt."

She didn't answer, but Dean saw her head bob. She curled up in the passenger seat, angling towards the window, and this time Dean didn't bother to correct her.

* * *

**Okay, first thing: ****_How ridiculously cute was this chapter?! _****I mean, Dean teaching Danny how to shoot, all the bonding crap, Cas and Dean both going to shield Danielle when Raphael busted out the window? I just ... I'm having problems dealing with all this.**

**And WOW. Plot twist! Danielle's no longer a prophet.. Betcha y'all didn't see that coming!**

**NotCrazyJustWeird97: Haha, I know. She can't even make a sandwich right, and they expect her to somehow help them stop the apocalypse? Rofl!**

** : I believe that will either be the next chapter or the chapter after that. And I think you're gonna like it (; Thanks for reviewing!**


	9. 2014

**Chapter 8**

**2014**

_"The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps." – Proverbs 16:9_

* * *

Dean _finally_ pulled up to the hotel, letting out a huge sigh of relief. He was about to pass out at the wheel. He glanced over to the passenger seat, where Danielle was curled up under his jacket, totally asleep.

He reached over, slapping her side. She jerked awake, fixing her glazed eyes on him.

"We're here," he grunted.

She just nodded, reaching up and rubbing her face. Dean clambered out, going to the trunk and pulling out both of their bags. He came back around, handing the dazed woman her bag.

"Excuse me, friend, have you considered God's plan for you?"

Danielle just stared sleepily at the man, too tired to even realize what was going on. Dean shook his head, herding her into the motel. "Too freakin' much, man."

Danielle immediately collapsed on the far bed, depositing Dean's jacket on the floor and disappearing under the covers. Not a minute later she was totally still, the only sign of life an eventual rise and fall in the blankets.

Dean talked with Cas for a few minutes, setting up the essentials for the morning. When he finally finished, he hung up, passing out almost as fast as Danielle in his bed.

He only woke up once more, when Sam had called announcing he was Lucifer's vessel. Dean talked with his brother for a while, sipping from a beer before going back to sleep.

When he woke up again, he was in a totally different universe.

* * *

Dean jimmied the lock before going to marvel at the destruction done to his poor, poor car. She was totally wrecked, and he ran a hand over the ruined upholstery in despair.

Suddenly, he found himself pinned to the hard ground. He grunted in pain, hearing a loud hiss from above him. He glanced up, seeing a very familiar brunette leaning over him. Danielle had her teeth bared, revealing a wicked set of fangs descending from her gums.

He only had time to think one thought before his vision went black: _Danielle was a vampire._

When Dean woke up again, he found himself handcuffed to a ladder. He instinctively struggled, pulling at the cold metal. He glanced around him, eyes landing on … _him._

"What the hell?" he asked, his eyes huge.

"I should be asking you that," other Dean retorted, a deep scowl spread across his face.

"Look, I'm not a shifter."

"I know. While you were out I went through all the motions: silver, salt, holy water. Nothing."

Other Dean's eyes suddenly flickered up to something behind Dean. Other Dean groaned, dropping his head before shaking it. "I told you to stay outside."

"I'm curious," came the smart retort.

Dean watched as Danielle – or some strange version of her – loped into the room. Her normally frizzy mess of curls was straightened into a thick curtain down to her waist. She wore leather everything – leather pants, tight black tank top, studded leather jacket. Her ridiculously tan skin had a faint, alluring glow to it, and her lips were pulled up into a smirk. She stared at Dean, head cocked slightly to the side, eyeing him as if he were a piece of meat. Her normally bright eyes sparked, but not from the usual excitement or happiness.

"Well, hey, Twilight," Dean stated bitterly, wondering why Other Dean was just sitting calmly beside her, having eyes only for his doppelganger.

"Hi Dean," she greeted, her voice sickeningly sweet as she flashed him a dazzling (threatening?) grin.

"So, is he really me?" Other Dean questioned lowly to the vampire.

She cocked her head, running her black eyes up and down Dean's body. "He smells exactly like you. Except … cleaner." Danielle glanced at Dean, giving him a toothy smile, but he was not amused.

"Thanks; I showered recently," Dean smarted.

"You don't have to be mean to me," Danielle pouted for just a second before her smirk popped back into place. At her smirk, Dean just barely held back a groan, looking away. _This_ was the future? Danielle becomes _a vampire_? It made his stomach churn.

"What's strange is he has all the same lock picks and cutters I have," Other Dean commented.

"Maybe he is you," Danielle stated.

"Zach sent from me."

Danielle and Other Dean shared a glance. "Freakin' angels," they both mumbled at the same time.

"So Croatoan virus?" Dean asked, fidgeting, uncomfortable under Danielle's scrutinizing stare.

Other Dean nodded, standing up and loading his machine gun. "Lucifer's plan to wipe out the human race. Started hitting the major cities a couple years ago before it spread out."

"And Sam?"

Danielle's smirk, for the first time, dropped, replaced by a flash of anger, which was soon chased away with a look of defeat. Other Dean looked back up, explaining that Sam had agreed to Lucifer in Detroit.

Other Dean shouldered his machine gun, starting to head for the door.

"Wait, where are you going?" Dean called.

"On an errand," came the answer. He turned to the vampire. "You comin'?"

"You're just going to leave him here?" she asked, a thin eyebrow rising.

"Yes," he retorted, nodding. "Coming or not?"

She walked over to other Dean, pulling him aside by his arm. They whispered furtively to each other, and Dean leaned forward as far as the handcuffs would allow him, trying to hear what they were saying. Other Dean looked annoyed, and Danielle looked as sardonic as ever before she smirked triumphantly. She flounced back over to Dean, while other Dean pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

"Come with me, big boy," she said, her voice dripping with honey as her fingers curled around his wrist. She yanked at the metal, breaking it off his wrist. She pulled him up to his feet, inwardly ecstatic at the horror and shock on Dean's face.

"Can you stop flirting with … me and come on already?" Other Dean demanded, as weirded out by the situation as the original Dean.

Danielle's face split into a grin, and she sighed, letting go of Dean's hand and following Other Dean out into the camp.

"Keep your heads down," other Dean ordered, the moon offering just enough light to illuminate the trails in the woods. "The last thing we need is another version of the Parent Trap," he mumbled as they started down the trails.

Dean struggled through the forest, and the other Dean, while looking much more at home, wasn't doing much better. Danielle, however, flounced as listlessly through the woods as if she was floating. She made no noise, though she was wearing knee-high biker boots.

It didn't take long for her to get irritated with the humans' slow pace, and she darted off into the darkness.

"Dude, what the _hell_?" Dean asked as soon as she was gone. He jogged to catch up, falling into step with his doppelganger.

"It's just a few trees; you'll be fine."

Deflecting. Dean had perfected that trick.

"I mean _Danielle. _How-" Dean was speechless for a moment, gaping and attempting to find _anything_ to express what he was feeling. He settled on repeating his earlier words: "What the hell? What _happened_?"

The other Dean looked put off, like he was irritated that Dean would even think to bring up that subject. He readjusted the duffel bag on his shoulder, face set in stone. "Life."

"Life?" Dean repeated, staring at his twin in shock. "That's all you're gonna give me?" At his future self's silence, Dean shook his head. "She's a _monster,_ and you're just letting her walk around free-"

"She's not a monster," he cut himself off, shooting a glare in his direction. "She's only killed one person, and it was a mistake."

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing! He loved Danielle, absolutely, but that was even more reason to put her out of her misery! He would kill her before let her be a monster. She wouldn't be remembered that way; he wouldn't let her disgrace her good name. Plus, this Danielle wasn't even really her. It couldn't be! This Danielle was cold, heartless… She was a complete bitch. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

It was like a switch. In a heartbeat, his future self had whirled on him, nothing but boiling green eyes and freckles filling up his vision. "Don't. You don't know me; you don't know her. This is _my_ world, and you follow my rules. She is a good person, and you know that."

"Whatever Danielle is here is _not good,_" Dean shot back, not impressed with himself. "This is not Dan."

"It is Dan," the other Dean snapped before sighing. The fire faded away, replaced by a grudging acceptance. His shoulders sagged, and he looked so much older than he really was. He pinched his nose, shaking his head. "I wish I could tell you to keep her away from him, but I don't think it'll help."

His twin gave a humorless laugh, and Dean was left blindsided. He glanced around them, as if the answer was going to emerge from the woods and present itself to him. "What the hell are you talking about?"

There was a loud rustling, and Dean spun around, only to have Danielle face-to-face with him. "Wh-" Dean started, but, before he could even process, he felt something under his stomach and the ground was flying. Everything was flying, moving, becoming nothing but a dark blur. Dean felt the wind whip around him, and, despite the solid object underneath him, he wanted to flail and get away.

Just as soon as it had happened, he found himself standing again. His head spun, and his butt hit the ground.

"_Whoa,_" came a familiar, throaty voice, and Dean looked up, seeing quite a few Castiel's in front of him. "Weird."

"Wha… hell?" Dean mumbled, reaching up to clasp his head. His hand waved in front of him, slapping his knee, and it took Dean a few times before his hand finally hit his head.

"What year are you from?"

"Two-thousand … Two-thousand and n-nine."

A hand drifted into Dean's vision, and Dean grabbed onto it, feeling the other man pull him to his feet. He swayed, nearly falling over but eventually regaining his balance.

"Sorry. Danielle's a little … much."

"You're telling me," Dean grumbled, glancing up at the smiling angel. Wait… _smiling? _A lazy smirk rested on his lips, and his arms were folded across his chest. Gone were the trench coat and the suit, leaving him in a huge, dirty tunic and jeans.

"2009?" Castiel repeated, brow furrowed. "Who brought you here?"

"Zachariah," Dean stated, glancing around. He was in a clearing in the forest, a few jeeps resting beside him. Other than Castiel, they were alone. "Where's Dan?"

Castiel glanced off into the woods, a puzzled expression coming on his face. "Not sure." He turned back to Dean, another smile splitting across his face. "She'll show up again soon."

There was a blur behind Castiel before Danielle's face emerged from the inky blackness, a smirk resting on her lips. "Boo."

Castiel jumped, flailing a fist behind him that Danielle easily dodged. She barked a laugh, cocking her head to the side and batting her long eyelashes innocently. Dean felt his heart sink a little; that was almost like her old self.

"Would you stop doing that?!" Castiel demanded.

Dean's eyes slid past both of them, watching his future self stride up to one of the jeeps. He didn't make eye contact with anyone, his head angled down towards the ground.

"What, you mean getting revenge for all those years of scaring my pants off?" Danielle asked.

Dean watched himself throw a duffel bag into the back of the jeep, going around to the other side.

"I didn't have to scare you to get your pants off."

Dean choked on his own spit, snapping his gaze back over to the couple. Castiel was full-blown _grinning_ at the vampire, who looked offended, though the corners of her lips were twitching up.

She huffed, and Castiel pecked her cheek.

"Do you two mind?" Other Dean snapped from the driver's seat of the jeep, while Dean gaped at the two.

"Wait a second- You two… You did…" Dean was at a loss for words, pointing and glancing between the two, eyes huge.

Danielle's eyebrows rose, and she shot him a _no duh _look. Castiel just smiled, like he knew something no one else knew, and he went over to the vehicle.

"Are you two together?" Dean whispered, shocked.

Danielle rolled her eyes, nodding and heading towards the car. Despite the fact Cas had gotten into the backseat, Danielle eased gracefully into the passenger seat next to the other Dean. Dean clambered into the back next to Cas, trying not to ogle at anyone.

* * *

Things Dean learned about the future:

1. He was a grade-A, type-1 asshole with a side of dick. Seriously, his future self hadn't _stopped_ grumbling and barking orders at the three the whole time. He treated all of them like children though none of them needed it.

2. Castiel was no longer an angel, and he and Danielle were in love. Like, _in love _in love. They seemed to have gotten past the 'honeymoon' stage, acting more like a married couple now, but it was still pretty bad.

3. Danielle was a badass of the grandest kind. She was a mean, annoying bitch, but holy _damn_ she was useful. It was like the old Danielle had never even _existed_.

Dean didn't know they were going after the Colt until they'd actually gotten the gun. The amount of demons and Croatoans ("croats" as they were so affectionately called in the future) they had to get through was unreal. Dean was confused at first as to why there were only four of them, but the reason quickly became known: Danielle counted as a whole army. Since she was already dead, the virus didn't affect her, so she could go recklessly gallivanting in hordes that sent the others running for cover.

After dispatching another group of at least a dozen, Danielle came back into the foyer of the small house they'd broken into. The Croats had been waiting for them, protecting whatever it was they were going after.

She grimaced, wiping at her arms as the other Dean stepped forward, glancing around the house. "I got rid of them all," she told him, nose wrinkling up in disgust. "I can't smell anymore."

The other Dean jogged up the stairs, coming back down not a minute later. He held the Colt in his hands, showing it to the vampire. She regarded it with grim hopefulness before he slid it back under his jacket.

"We came here for _the_ _Colt_?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Why?"

"We're gonna kill the devil," other Dean said, striding out of the house. The rest of his team followed him out into the quiet neighborhood, heading back towards where they'd parked the Jeep a few houses down.

"That was almost too easy," Castiel pointed out, scowling.

Danielle and the other Dean shared an uneasy glance. They agreed with the ex-angel, but she couldn't hear/smell/see any more danger. Nonetheless, Cas and the other Dean held onto their guns, moving ahead in a tight unit. They obviously had done this before, their group moving in complete symmetry. They made it about twenty yards, the old Dean trailing behind, gun resting in his hands before Danielle shot straight up, stiffening.

He barely understood what happened next.

One second, the trio was in front of him, the next, they were gone. He didn't have time to look for them – he didn't even have time to realize that they had disappeared – before there was a deafening boom from down the road. There was a flash of red and orange and white, and a wave of heat knocked him onto his side. He felt something grab his shoulder, and he found himself lying on the ground, pinned down.

The explosion shook the ground, and the sky itself seemed to move as the car (he was underneath it?) rocked and slid from the blast wave.

A ringing noise pierced his ears, leaving him completely deaf. He could only watch as Danielle (the crushing weight shoving him into the ground- she'd been shielding him with her body) pushed the Jeep away as if it were nothing but a small rock.

She rose to her feet, stumbling a step. She shook her head roughly, hoisting the other Dean and Castiel up. She grabbed onto Castiel, placing one hand on his face, expression scrunched up in worry. They both staggered, and she supported their weight for the few seconds it took them to recompose themselves.

Dean laid on the ground, turning his head to see that one of the cars that had been harmlessly parked on the side of the road was now on fire, thick clouds of smoke billowing into the air. It took him a minute to piece together everything that had happened: Danielle had thrown his future self and Cas under the Jeep before she grabbed him, just as the car they'd been walking by exploded. She laid on top of all of them, using her own body as a shield from the blast.

She reached down, pulling the original Dean to his feet. He realized, as he moved, that he was injured; there were cuts and bruises all over his body from flying debris that had caught him in the millisecond before Danielle had gotten him. She seemed to be injured as well, palms both scraped up and bleeding.

The ringing faded away, replaced with the harsh screeching of car alarms. Dean noticed, for the first time, all the cars lining the street. They were some parked on the curb, some sitting in the driveway, some in yards, doors left open as their previous occupants had fled. But they were all honking and announcing their presence to the world, lights flashing.

"Oh, damn," Danielle cursed, wide eyes meeting Cas's and other Dean's. Dean was confused as to the clear panic on their faces; he didn't know that Croats were attracted by sound.

"Cas and I'll go first, Dan you cover us," other Dean quickly barked, doing a double take when he saw his doppelganger. He gritted his teeth, shaking his head at the inconvenience. "I _told_ you he shouldn't have come!"

"I didn't realize it would be this dangerous!" Danielle shot back.

"What, did you think we were going to Disneyland?" he argued, livid.

"I wanted him to see what would happen!"

"Why? Because I was too much of a coward to say yes?"

The two were in each other's faces now, eyes shining with rage. "Yes!" Danielle shrieked. "Because you were too damn scared to pick up the phone and _call Sam_; because of all the things that have happened _since!"_

"Uh… Guys?"

"What?" the couple snapped, jerking their gazes to the pale ex-angel. He only gaped, eyes focused on something beyond both of them. They all turned to look down the street, and their stomachs dropped to their feet, and they found themselves as speechless as Castiel.

A whole _army_ of Croats were making their way down the street, enough of them to make a solid wall spanning all the way across the two-lane road. The horde was already thick enough to not seem to have an end and more were pouring in from the houses and the alleys between the houses. They all just ambled along before they spotted the four. As one, they all hesitated, and for that perfect, clear moment, Dean had time to think one thought: they were all hopelessly screwed.

And then the Croats were running, closing the distance between them.

"Oh, damn," Danielle whispered again, but this time, it was full of terror. "Get in the car," she ordered, grabbing Castiel and disappearing. "I'll hold them off." The ex-angel found himself in the passenger seat, and Dean found himself thrown into the back. The future Dean reappeared in the front, Danielle leaning in through the window.

Her dark eyes were stretched wide, and, for the first time, she resembled the old Danielle. She was scared out of her mind, her hands gripping tight enough onto the car door to leave dents from her fingers. The other Dean met her gaze, mirroring her fear.

"I- I don't wanna die," she stammered, lips quivering.

"Then don't die," came his response. He sounded stunned, like he wasn't exactly sure of what was happening or of what he was saying.

She nodded dumbly, her gaze flickering back to the herd bearing down on them. They were about two hundred yards away now, level with the street sign she'd read. She blurred, reappearing in the passenger window.

"No," Castiel stammered, realizing what was going on. His trembling fingers grappled at the door handle, but she was too strong; he couldn't open the door. "No, Dan, c'mon."

She stared down at him, her eyes shining with tears. She managed a small, sad smile, leaning down and pressing a long, sweet kiss to his lips. "I love you," she muttered, pulling back. Castiel looked stunned, just staring at her. Her eyes flickered over to the other Dean, chest heaving. "I love you, too."

"See you around, princess," the other Dean said.

A tear streaked down her face, and she nodded before walking stiffly away. She positioned herself in front of the car, knees bent in a slight crouch. Her hands came up to her chest, fingers twitching in anticipation of the incoming fight.

The other Dean slammed the car into reverse, watching as the vampire shot forwards, a whirlwind of nails and fangs, biting and ripping into her enemies. He jerked it back into drive, shooting away down the road, leaving the girl behind.

"No, w-we have to go back," Castiel started, turning around and staring out the back window. He was pale as a sheet, and his hands were shaking.

Dean didn't stop, his hands tight on the wheel. His jaw was clenched, and his gaze didn't look away from the road in front of him.

"Stop the car, Dean!" Castiel shouted, the panic leaking through his voice. "She'll die; let me go!"

"No one else is dying!" his future self bellowed, and Castiel fell silent, slowly turning to face straight ahead.

There was a tense silence before the future Dean muttered, "Past me?"

Dean swallowed the huge lump in his throat, risking a glance behind. He watched as the horde of Croats dove in, swarming over the girl. She was strong, but there were just too many. Dean turned back around, face ashen. He didn't need to say anything.

Cas let out a choked sound, and he looked like hell had come up and grabbed him by the throat. The other Dean was quiet for just a moment before he slammed his hand down on the wheel.

Other than that, the three remaining members of their party stayed silent for the rest of the trip.

* * *

By the time they got back, the sun had already risen, shining behind a thick layer of clouds. Other Dean had completely forgotten about his doppelganger and had accidentally driven right into the heart of camp, allowing everyone to see the past version of himself.

Dean was shaken up to his core, almost as grief-stricken as his future self and Castiel. He'd watched Danielle die. Right in front of his eyes. And yeah, maybe she was a bitch, and sure, she was cruel and mean and nothing like she really was, but that Danielle that had peeked through, right before she'd sacrificed herself so that he and Cas and the other him could get away… _That_ was the Danny he knew.

The remainder of the camp knew right away that Danielle was dead, as soon as just the three of them arrived. She didn't seem to have many fans in the camp, and no one seemed extremely upset. The future Dean had only stayed long enough to break the news of her death to the people before grabbing his twin and stalking away, Castiel trailing absently behind.

The three of them went back into the other Dean's cabin, where he went straight over to one of the cupboards. He pulled out a necklace, holding his hands at his chest and staring down at it. Dean couldn't see his expression from behind him, but he knew how he must've been feeling.

The other Dean turned around, letting the necklace dangle from his fingers. Dean squinted at it, seeing a simple cross hanging from the black string. "This was Dan's," he announced, grief shining in his cold eyes. "It's the only thing left, other than a few clothes."

The other Dean tossed it, and Dean barely managed to catch it, staring down at the necklace. Did Danielle have this now? He'd never noticed before. He looked at it, sorrow rising in his chest.

"I lost my sister," the other Dean stated. "I lost my brother, and now my sister. Because _you_ were too stubborn, too cowardly to say yes."

His voice caught, and he held Dean's gaze for a second, eyes boiling with emotion before he walked forward, snatching the necklace back and walking out of the cabin. Dean turned to Castiel, who was staring at the ground, jaw moving.

Castiel was stricken, unable to move. He hadn't spoken, hadn't even seemed to so much as breathe. Maybe he was holding himself back because he knew he wouldn't be able to handle that kind of crushing grief. The despair was too much for him, so he wouldn't even begin to process the thought that she was gone.

Castiel finally moved, picking up the flask that had been left by the other Dean, downing the bottle with trembling hands. Dean could see the tears dripping down his cheeks.

Dean was so shaken by the sight of his future self, storming out of a room, barely able to keep himself together, and by the sight of the stoic angel, in tears because of the human girl he seemed to not really regard as anything other than a prophet. And by the fact that _this_ was how everything was going to end up. Danielle was going to get so lost, so confused and misguided that she would become a vampire and eventually die the hero's death she always wanted but didn't deserve. He was going to become hard and detached, almost scarily so. He would become a nightmare. And Castiel was going to lose his grace, all of his powers, and become this broken husk of a person, lost without his prophet.

By the time the other Dean had regained control of himself and gathered a few members of the camp together, Castiel was smashed. Dean had stuck around with him, partly because he didn't have anywhere else to go, partly because he wasn't sure what the ex-angel would do to himself if he were alone.

"Lucifer is here, now." The future Dean set the map down on the ground, tapping the red circle he'd scrawled down.

"That's right in the middle of a hot zone," Risa pointed out, jaw slack with shock.

"Crawling with Croats, yeah," he growled without any further explanation.

Risa stared at him in disbelief, turning to look at the unusually silent Castiel. His face was pale, and his shaking hand clutched onto a half-empty bottle of beer. She glanced back at the past Dean, but he was just as quiet, gaze focused on the ground. Risa gave a laugh devoid of humor, turning back to the present Dean. "So just because your bff died, all of you are willing to just kill yourselves?"

"Yes." Dean straightened up, fixing her with a cold glare. "Are you coming or not?"

Risa just shook her head, letting out a scoff before rubbing her face. "Yeah, sure, whatever. I'll go get everyone else." She headed for the door, pausing next to Castiel. "You coming?"

Castiel just kept staring off into space, face and expression blank. His arm was like a machine, delivering the alcohol to his mouth before pulling it away. Back and forth.

"Cas?" Dean asked.

He stirred, eyes rising to meet Dean's. The gut-wrenching pain and emptiness shining in the ex-angel's blue eyes was enough to make Dean's stomach turn. He looked away, unable to bear Castiel's grief as his own.

Castiel rose, swayed, and stumbled towards the door, Risa right behind him.

They set out, and past Dean drove while Castiel shivered in the passenger seat. It was a quiet drive; all of Dean's attempts at conversation were ignored. After a while, he just stopped trying. It was clear that Castiel was on the fast track to nowhere.

They made it to the building, all crouching behind an overturned car. The future Dean peered through his binoculars, and Dean wasn't oblivious to the fact that he was lying. He called for a private council, and the two Deans headed off into the woods.

"Tell me what's going on," Dean demanded.

His future self blinked. "What?"

"I know you. I know your lying expressions; I've seen them in the mirror." Dean snorted, jaw clenched as he glanced away from his doppelganger. "Now you're lying to these people, and to me. What's going on?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," his twin shot back, and Dean felt rage rise up in his chest. Why did he have to be such a pain in the ass?

"Oh, really? Well, I don't seem to be the only one with doubts, so maybe I'll just ask them what they think." Dean only had to take a few steps back towards the car before his twin stopped him.

"Look around you," he stated with reluctance. "This place should be white-hot with Croats. Where are they?"

Dean felt his stomach drop. "So this must be a trap. We can't just go in through the front door!"

"Oh, we're not." Dean's eyes were cold and detached, and his expression was blank in a way that made the hairs rise on the back of Dean's neck. "_They_ are. They're the decoys. You and me, we're going in through the back."

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You mean… You're going to feed your friends into the _meat grinder?_ _Cas too?_"

His future self snorted. "You think Cas cares? Listen to me; you get back, if you don't say yes, then you better keep those two apart. You wanna know why she changed? Because of _him._ She died, because of him, and now he's gonna die because of her."

"No, because of _you_," Dean growled. "_You're_ the one who's about to chop him up. And Danielle died because of you _and_ Cas. Don't wash your hands of this; you're just as guilty!"

"Aren't you listening to me?" he demanded. "He's the reason she _turns. _He's the reason she killed someone. They're bad, and you have to keep them apart. Try and keep Dan as innocent as possible."

Dean snorted, shaking his head. "Why should I listen to anything you say, you selfish bastard?"

"Because I'm you," the future Dean spat, mirroring his twin's fury. "And the only person you trust, _one hundred percent_, is me."

"I'm not gonna let you," Dean swore, barely able to control his rage. He wanted to sink his fist into his doppelganger's face; how could he even _think_ that way? Surely this was not Dean; he wouldn't grow up to be this person.

"Oh, really?" his twin asked.

He felt a flash of pain before it all went black.

* * *

Zachariah _finally _reappeared, after what seemed like years spent in a place almost as bad as Hell, zapping him back to the motel room.

He stared at the angel for a moment, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. "Well… if it isn't the ghost of Christmas-screw-you."

"Enough," came his simple answer. "Enough, Dean, enough. You saw it, didn't you? You saw what happens. You're the only person who can prove the devil wrong. Just say yes."

Dean's eyes slid past the angel, falling on the form under the blankets on the far bed. It rose and fell steadily, and Dean let out a exhale of relief. Danielle was _there_, she was _alive,_ and sleeping peacefully, unaware of everything around her.

"And how do I know this whole thing isn't one of your tricks?" Dean demanded. "Huh? Some angel hocus-pocus?"

"The time for tricks is over. Give yourself to Michael. Say _yes,_ and we can strike! Before Lucifer gets to Sam, before millions die, before Danielle dies."

Dean walked past the angel, staring down at the sleeping girl. She was still oblivious, her loud breathing deafening in the tense silence. She started to mumble something – she talked in her sleep –, turning onto her back.

He thought of her death, Sam's death, the devil killing him and then flaunting it in his face. Tears pricked in the corners of her eyes, and he swallowed against the lump rising in his throat. He'd find a way to save them, but it wouldn't be the angel's way. Not now, not ever.

"Nah."

Zachariah was quiet for a second before he whispered, "Nah? You're telling me you _haven't_ learned your lesson?"

His voice grew louder with every word, finally enough to wake the girl. She sniffed, rolling onto her side and peeking through her lashes sleepily. Her eyes widened at the sight, and she sat bolt-upright, fear etched onto her face.

Like right before she died.

Dean shoved the thought away, giving her expectant gaze a simple nod before turning back to the angel. "Oh, I learned a lesson alright. Just not the one you wanted to teach."

Zachariah's eyes were threatening to pop out of his skull as he took an enraged step forward. "Well then, I'll have to teach it _again_ because I've got you now, boy, and I-"

Dean found himself staring at an abandoned, two-lane road. There was a single streetlamp casting light on the forest surrounding the road. Confused, he spun around to see Castiel staring at him. He let out a sigh of relief, spotting Danielle on the other side of the angel.

"Pretty nice timing, Cas," Dean said.

"We had an appointment," the angel returned, the corners of his lips turned up into a fond smile.

Dean grabbed Castiel's shoulder. "Don't ever change."

"What the heck just happened?" Danielle asked, rubbing her eyes.

Castiel turned, staring intently at the mess of tangled curls that was matted up on one side. "What's wrong with your hair?"

Even in her half-awake state, she managed to laugh, grinning up at the angel. "Don't ever say that," she taught. "How'd Zachariah find us?"

"Long story. Let's just stay away from Jehovah's witnesses from now on," he replied, taking out his cell phone. He glanced at the girl, his eyes lingering on her for a second, an affectionate expression on his face.

She smiled, furrowing her brow. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just good to see you," he said, holding the phone up to his ear.

"What are you doing?" Cas asked.

"Something I should have done in the first place. Hey, Sam."

* * *

**CRYING FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. I really just can't... This chapter was heartbreaking... I cried when I wrote it, and I cry everytime I read it.**

**But, guys, y'all don't even know the work I put into this chapter. I wrote this a month or so ago, and I've changed it ****_so_**** many times. But I'm really happy (kind of) with how it turned out. Tell me what y'all think!**

***hands out tissues***

**NotCrazyJustWeird97: Haha, the mustard part kills me everytime. And lololol, me too. I just wanna grab them by the back of the heads and push their heads together... Is that weird? Lol, thanks for the review!**

**Kelword-Ann: Thank you so much! (:**


	10. The Children Are Our Future

**Chapter 9 **

**The Children Are Our Future**

_"but Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.'" Matthew 19:14_

* * *

"Dude, I don't even know where to _start,_" Danielle stated, shaking her head in exasperation. The huge lore book rested on the table in front of her, and the most she could get out of it was – yet another – story of how the devil had fallen from grace. They'd been looking for weeks for ways to stop the devil, but they'd come up with zilch.

"Keep our heads down, I guess," Dean stated from where he was sprawled out across the bed, ancient pictures spread out in front of him. He glanced up to where Sam was closing the window curtains, spreading salt on the windowsill. They weren't usually this cautious, but Danielle had heard their case might have a ghost, and she wasn't taking any chances. "Hex bags?"

"Underneath the beds and in our bags," Sam stated. He dropped down into the seat across from Danielle, turning the book halfway towards him. He scanned his hazel eyes across the dusty pages for just a second before sighing, rubbing his face.

The three of them were quiet before Sam stood up, grabbing his coat. He headed for the door, and Dean's head snapped up, regarding his brother with a wary, on guard expression. "Where are you going?" he demanded.

Sam paused, and Danielle knew he was holding back an exasperated sigh. "To get some food."

Dean stared at his brother's back for a second longer before deciding it was okay, laying back on the bed.

"Get extra fries," Danielle said, and Sam nodded, leaving them alone in the room. Danielle shot the older Winchester a patronizing look.

"What?" he demanded.

"I hope you're not planning to be like that the whole time."

"Like what?" he asked, scowling.

"_On_ him. Breathing down his neck. You need to give him some space."

Dean looked at her like he couldn't believe what he was hearing, swinging his legs around the bed and facing her. "Space? Dan, the last time I gave him space, he chose a demon over _me_ and then popped Satan from his hole. I think it's okay if I breathe down his neck."

He rose to his feet, clearly agitated as he stalked over to the kitchen. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey, taking a shot of the liquid.

"Dean," she started, rising to her feet. He looked up, feeling his stomach drop. He knew _that_ tone. That was the 'I'm-worried-and-I'm-about-to-shrink-you' tone. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answered, looking back down at his bottle but feeling her sympathetic gaze. "Nothing, I swear!"

"You haven't been the same since Zachariah showed up in the hotel room! You won't even tell me what happened!"

"He sent me to the future, okay?" Dean admitted, setting the bottle down with a little more force than necessary. It hadn't even been a day, and she was already hounding him, demanding to know everything. She opened her mouth to ask what happened, eyes wide in surprise, but he cut her off. "It was just a bunch of crap that really doesn't matter."

"It obviously does," she protested, crossing her arms across her chest.

Dean met her gaze. She was the total opposite of her future self; the other side of the coin. Her eyes were warm and pinched at the corners in concern, her hair falling down just past her ribs in a mess of frizzy waves with side-bangs that always got in her way. She wore a simple long-sleeve shirt with jeans and her flip-flops, even though it was January.

He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let her turn into that person.

"It's not a big deal. Really," he promised, his tone softer as he stopped being defensive. He came over, sitting on the opposite bed from her. She sat down as well, staring at him. "It just … shook me up a little bit."

"You sure?" she questioned, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

He nodded, shooting her a small smile. "Positive."

She nodded, pressing her lips together. She glanced back at him, the grin she'd been holding back finally bursting through. "What was it like? Were there flying cars? T.V.'s you can turn on with your mind?"

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "You kidding me? Did you forget about the apocalypse, Dan? There were zombies everywhere."

Her eyes popped open, and her jaw dropped. "No _way? _Like the Walking Dead?"

"Do I even want to know what that is?" Dean asked. She rolled her eyes, smiling at the rhetorical question. "Well, Lucifer was using Sam as a meatsuit, Cas was as human as you and me, and I was pretty much a jerk with issues."

"Oh, so like you are now?" she teased, her eyes twinkling. "Kidding. What about me? I was already dead, wasn't I?"

Dean furrowed his brow at her light-heartedness. "Dan, you realize this is the _future_, right? This stuff is gonna happen."

She shrugged. "Maybe. The future can always change."

Dean nodded. "Says Delphi. Well, you were a vampire."

"What?" she exclaimed, shocked. "No _way!_"

"Yeah. And you were a bitch."

She threw her head back and laughed, clapping her hands. "Oh, my gosh, that is _perfect. _I bet I wore leather, too."

Dean glanced at her, and she snorted. "I can't believe it. That's _hilarious._"

"You die."

Danielle's smile faded, and she looked back at Dean, her expression hesitant. "Really? How?"

"You took on this whole group of zombies by yourself so that me and Cas and other … me could get away."

Danielle stared at him, eyebrows furrowed, almost as if she didn't know what to think about that. "I thought you said I was mean?"

"Mean, not heartless," Dean said, starting to regret telling her about her future. She seemed morose, now, and he inwardly kicked himself. He'd thought she'd be fine with it; after all, she seemed pretty confident that the future could change.

"Well," she finally said with a sigh. She clapped her hands on her thighs, pushing her bangs back from her face. "I guess we'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen. The vampire thing is pretty smart, though."

"No," Dean instantly growled, pointing a finger at her. "Don't even think about it, not for a second."

She held up her hands, grinning. "Okay, okay. Just saying."

"Don't," he warned. He was quiet for a second before looking back at her, his eyes twinkling. A smirk curled up on her lips, and she regarded him with nervousness.

"What is it?" she asked, worried that her future self had done something _really stupid_.

"You and Cas…" He trailed off, smirking at her.

"Oh gosh," she said, eyes wide and guilty like she'd been caught. "What about us?"

"You were banging each other."

She clapped her hands over her ears, letting out a loud, "Oh, my _gosh, Dean!"_

He barked a laugh, standing up and ruffling her hair. "What, you been thinking about it? He _is _a handsome devil." He winked at her, and she grabbed a pillow, hitting him in the stomach with it.

"Dean Winchester, stop it right now!"

"Look at that blush," he teased. Her whole face was bright red, gleaming like Rudolph's nose. "Someone's got a crush!"

"I do not!" she defended, falling onto her stomach and burying her face in the pillow. "I hate you!"

"You love me," he argued. "You said it to me right before you died."

She gasped, sitting up and hitting him repeatedly with another pillow. "That's just _wrong. _That was an emotional period in both of our lives, and you're just _joking_ about it!"

Dean laughed, walking away from the range of her weapon and grabbing his bottle of whiskey. It felt good to be able to laugh the worries away, and not to have to force his laughter. Danielle totally disregarded the future, and he knew it wasn't as real to her – she wasn't there – but it felt good for him to let her peace roll onto him, even if he was still anxious about it all.

But, as soon as he turned away, he felt his smile fade, pinched away by nervousness. His stomach churned, and he couldn't help but recall what his future self had said. Cas and Danielle…?

Cas didn't even hardly _have_ emotions, and Danielle would just find it _wrong _to fall in love with angel, right?

* * *

Three Days Later

"A _ghost_?" Danielle asked, and both brothers could _see_ her skin go pale. Her eyes widened, and she looked terrified.

"Dan…?" Dean started, sharing a look with his brother.

She started to shake her head slowly, glancing up at the boys who were standing in front of her. "I don't do ghosts; _nuh-uh._"

Sam snorted, raising his eyebrows. "So you'll go up against angels or demons, but when it comes to ghosts?"

"They're dead people!" Danielle whispered.

Dean gave a mock gasp, mirroring her earnest expression. "S-So are angels and demons!"

Danielle rolled her eyes, crossing her legs on the bed. "I've seen the Exorcist; I ain't aboutta get nowhere _near_ a ghost."

Sam barked a laugh, whether at her accent or the content of her sentence, they didn't know. Dean just shook his head in disappointment, letting out a heavy sigh. "Danielle, that was a demonic possession."

She frowned, her eyebrows furrowing. "Oh… Well, still. I don't do, nor will I _ever_, do ghosts."

"Dan, no one's asking you to _do_ a ghost," Dean said, spreading his arms out. Danielle and Sam both rolled their eyes, the former letting out a snide giggle. "Just hunt one."

Danielle, still laughing, shook her head. "No, no. I'm not a hunter; I'm just a girl trying to stop the end of times."

"Fine," Dean stated, turning away and adding in a mumble: "Bore." He glanced over his shoulder, smirking at Danielle's offended expression. He grabbed his keys, shouldering into his jacket. "I'm gonna head out, get some food."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked, eyebrows cocked. Dean turned around, slow, fixing his brother with a dubious expression. Sam sighed. "I'm just saying… Michael's out there."

Dean jabbed a finger at his chest, reminding them of the Enochian sigils carved on their ribs. "I'll be fine," he stated before striding out of the room.

Sam shared a look with Danielle before tossing her a jacket. She caught it, staring down at it for a moment in surprise. "What are you…"

"I gotta show you a few things," Sam said, crouching down and pulling his duffel bag out from underneath the bed. He unzipped it, setting a crossbow, bow-and-arrow, and a quiver on the quilt. "Guns don't really work against most things."

Danielle's eyes gleamed with excitement. Since she was a kid, she _adored_ old-timey fairytale books. In old-timey fairytale books, there were no guns. There were bow-and-arrows. Indians had them, Robin Hood had them. And that was enough for Danielle to become enchanted with the weapons. "But if we fill the bullets with salt or other-"

"Have you ever filled a bullet with salt?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised. Danielle shook her head, and Sam gave a single nod. "That's right. Because they're a major pain in the ass to do."

"Watch it," Danielle warned as the hunter handed her the crossbow. She couldn't stop the small, excited grin as she reached out and took the weapon. She held it gingerly, like it was a piece of glass and if she so much as _looked_ at it too hard it would shatter. She ran her fingers over the dark brown wood, her smile flickering wider.

"What?" Sam questioned, smiling just a little at Danielle's enthralled look.

"Nothing," she returned. She was grinning, now, as she looked up at Sam. "Let's go."

* * *

Fours Days Later

"So, no ghosts?" Danielle clarified, sitting in the backseat.

"Well, we aren't for sure yet, but probably not," Sam answered truthfully.

"Seriously, Dan, ghosts aren't even that bad. I mean, compared to angels, they're freakin' candy land," Dean added from the driver's seat.

"Not even," she scoffed. She mused for a few seconds, chewing on her bottom lip before finally nodding. "Alright, I'm in. Let's go."

The trio climbed out of the car, strolling casually into the morgue. They simply had to flash their badges, and they were practically treated like gods, despite how suspicious it looked for there to be three officers. The coroner pulled the body out on the tray, flipping off the blanket and showing the damage.

Danielle furrowed her brow, leaning closer to try and see better. Her _skull_ had been ripped open. If this hadn't been real life, and the smell of corpses so rank, she would've thought it was actually kind of cool. What was even crazier is the fact that the coroner had deemed that she had done it to herself, using her own nails.

"How're you doing; you good?" Sam questioned as they headed back towards the car. He and Dean both had expected for her to have some kind of meltdown – be it vomiting or crying or fainting – prior to her running out of the room. Surprisingly, she'd just seemed intrigued.

"I'm fine," Danielle answered, bouncing up and down on her feet before clambering into the back seat of the Impala. "Oh, did y'all think the body would freak me out? I mean, it's sad and all, but I watch the Walking Dead. _Nothing _is too gory for me anymore. Nothing."

The boys just shared an amused smile. The girl was terrified of hospitals, ghosts, bugs, and pretty much every supernatural creature on the earth, but she was totally fine with dead bodies.

"I went to med school, guys!" she exclaimed from the backseat, not missing their disbelieving glances. "I had to cut open dead people. Trust me; not a big deal."

* * *

Danielle was surprisingly doing well on the case. The boys both knew Dean was totally hopeless when it came to sympathizing with victim's families, and Sam wasn't much better. But throw Danielle in the same room as a grieving family, and, soon enough, she'd have them wrapped around her finger. There was no end to the list of things she was horrible at (running with coffee cups being one of them), but she was good at empathizing.

And she was even better with kids. The kid that the brain girl was babysitting had been lurking around the stairs, a guilty look on his face. Danielle had him smiling in minutes and quickly coaxed the truth out of the boy.

Things started getting really weird when they got another case at the hospital; an old man had used a joy buzzer on a friend and accidentally electrocuted the man.

And that was how they ended up here.

"Dean, I don't think that's a good idea," Danielle claimed for the hundredth time, eyebrows pinched up in concern.

"I'll be fine!" he assured confidently, snapping on the thick rubber gloves. He stared at the buzzer through goggles before adding a hesitant, "I think." Nevertheless, he slid the buzzer on his finger and, after flipping down the mask on his goggles, pressed it against the ham.

Danielle's jaw dropped as the ham popped and sizzled, cooking itself in seconds.

"What the hell?" Sam wondered aloud as Dean pulled away the buzzer, setting it down on the table next to him.

"Holy _crap. _That is so freakin' handy. Can we keep it?" Danielle pleaded, reaching into the ham and pulling out a chunk. She tossed it down her throat, a huge smile crossing her face.

"So, what are we looking at- cursed objects?" Sam offered.

"Seems as good a guess as any," Dean answered, slapping away Danielle's greedy hand and grabbing some of the ham for him.

"Well, they all come from the same store," Danielle stated. "It's right down the road, too."

"Okay, then let's go," Sam said, shrugging into his coat. Halfway out the door, he glanced over his shoulder, seeing that the two were still pigging out on the pig. "Are you two coming?" he demanded.

"You two go; I'll stay here. Watch the … buzzer," Danielle offered, shooting the two a wide smirk.

"If I come back and it's all gone, I'll be pissed," Dean warned before licking his fingers and following his brother out the door.

* * *

"I'm surprised you could drag yourself from that ham long enough to actually do something," Sam smart-alecked.

Danielle looked away from the door, slapping his shoulder. "Watch it," she warned.

"Yeah, you were _pigging out_," Dean added coyly at her other side.

She snickered, shaking her head. "Shut up; I'm trying to concentrate." Her tongue protruded from the corner of her lips as she stuck her bobby pins into the keyhole, attempting to pick the lock. Key word: _attempting._

Out of nowhere, the door swung open, and Danielle threw a triumphant fist into the air.

"Ye- Oh … Hi …?"

Sam and Dean's attention went immediately to the door, where a little boy was standing in the doorway. He had an eyebrow cocked and was staring up at Danielle.

"I was just … practicing, you know…" she tried to cover up before a huge grin suddenly split across her face, followed by a giggle. "I'm Sarah. This is Robert and Murphy," she introduced, pointing to Sam and Dean respectively. "We're FBI."

The boy looked unconvinced. "Does the FBI not know how to knock?"

Dean held up a hand between his mouth and Danielle, whispering: "She's new."

Danielle shrugged, not arguing as the kid demanded to see their badges.

"Just don't make fun of my picture," Danielle playfully warned before handing him her brand new badge.

He squinted at them, ignoring her joke before handing them their badges back. He took a step back, allowing them into his house.

"Where are your parents?" Danielle questioned, glancing around the dilapidated home in confusion. It wasn't that it was a total wreck; it was just clearly starting to show its age.

"Work," he replied simply, strolling into his kitchen and pulling a pot off the stove.

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"Soup. You know, you eat it?" the kid returned.

Danielle's eyebrows rose. "Well, someone's sassy," she teased, hand on her hip.

He shrugged, setting the pot on the table and spooning the soup into his mouth. "What kind of FBI agent says 'sassy'?" he questioned.

Danielle frowned; this kid wasn't even cracking a smile at her jokes. Nevertheless, she plowed fearlessly on. "The cool ones, duh." He rolled his eyes, though she thought he saw his lips twitch up. "What's your name, hon?"

"Jessie," he answered.

"Jessie, is this what you think the Tooth Fairy looks like?" Dean suddenly spoke up, entering the room. Danielle hadn't even noticed that he'd left. She furrowed her brow at the sketch; a forty-year-old men in a tutu?

Jessie nodded. "My dad told me he looked like that."

"Hm. What do you think about itching powder?"

"It can make you scratch your brains out!" he exclaimed, eyes wide in childish innocence.

Danielle took a seat at the table across from him. "And joy buzzers?"

Jessie shook his head, brown hair flopping across his forehead. "Don't play with those! They'll electrocute you!"

The trio shared a glance before Dean assured, "You know, that's not true. Pop rocks and soda doesn't send you to the hospital, itching powder doesn't kill you, and joy buzzers don't electrocute you. They're kind of lame; all they do is give you this shock that you can hardly feel."

"Really?" Jessie asked, confused.

"Yep. See!" Dean pulled out the buzzer, pressing it against Sam's chest. Danielle's jaw dropped, and Sam jumped before turning a murderous glare on his brother, still alive.

"Let me try!" Danielle exclaimed – for the kid's sake – jumping out of her chair and holding out her arm. Dean hit the buzzer against her elbow, and she suddenly started jerking, spasms running through her body. Panic floored Dean for a second, before Danielle stopped, a huge grin on her face.

"Gotcha!" she teased, pointing at the kid, who looked like he was about to have a heart attack. Finally, Jessie grinned, laughing at Danielle's antics.

Dean glanced at Sam, almost having had a heart attack himself, but Sam was still glaring at him for the buzzer thing.

They went through a routine set of questions, but nothing else really seemed amiss with the kid. He seemed to be nice, and he enjoyed joking with Danielle.

"Alright, kiddo, catch ya later," Danielle stated, throwing up a peace sign.

Jessie smiled, shaking his head before shutting the door on the three.

Dean suddenly slapped her arm, making her jump and rub her arm. "_Ow_, Dean!" she whined, even though it hadn't hurt … _that_ bad.

"You gave me a friggin' heart attack!"

"What, with the buzzer thing?" she asked, her grin popping back up. "I think it was pretty decent payback for risking Sam's life."

"_Thank you_," Sam stated, shooting daggers at his brother.

"Friggin' ganging up on me," Dean mumbled under his breath, stalking back to the Impala. Danielle and Sam shared a grin before following him.

* * *

**So, the usual dose of Dan/Dean/Sam cuteness in this chapter. What do y'all think of Dean and Danielle talking about the future!verse? I, for one, am kind of surprised at Dean for ****_actually_**** telling her.. I'm also surprised that she took it so well! Of course, it kind of adds to her naivety****_ ... Thanks for the reviews and faves and follows!_**

**NotCrazyJustWeird97: AW, me too.. Everytime I go back and read it, I end up crying. SO so so sad): And I dunno if I would use the word "good" but... *wink wink***

** : Thank you so much! (: (and maybe someday you'll find out how she becomes a vamp (; )**

**comrade dean winchester: First off. Your username? DYING LOL. Thanks for your reviews; season 8 really gives you a good ole kick in the feels huh? And LOL the mustard scene... *wipes away laughing tears* Never gets old!**


	11. Arguing with Angels

**Chapter 10: **

**Arguing with Angels**

_"Then the Lord spoke to the angel. And the angel put his sword away." – 1 Chronicles 21:27_

"I'm trying to not scare you."

Danielle nearly fell out of her chair, her knees bumping the table and sending her notes flying around the kitchen. She snapped her gaze up to the angel who was standing – almost sheepishly – on the far side of the room.

"My apologies."

Danielle shook her head, closing her eyes and trying to calm down her heartbeat. Cas popping in when Sam and/or Dean in the room was one thing, but him appearing when it was just her, alone, at night…

"Well, at least I'm not tired anymore," she joked, reopening her eyes and finding all of her notes stacked perfectly on the table. Castiel stood on the other side, blue eyes reflecting brightly in the intense kitchen light.

"Find God yet?" Danielle asked, her voice teasing as she rose to her feet.

"No, not yet," Castiel stated, watching her cross over to the cooler nestled against the wall. She opened the lid, digging past all of Dean's beer and pulling out a Dr. Pepper.

"Want something?" she questioned.

"No," Castiel answered. She shut the lid, jumping up on the counter and swinging her legs in the air. "Where are Dean and Sam?"

"They went to go talk to somebody. Hey, you want any ham?" she suddenly asked, perking up.

"No, angels don't need any subsistence."

"Oh," she sighed, her shoulders slumping over again. "Well you can sit down if you want. Or do your legs not get tired?"

Castiel's brow furrowed. "No, they …" He stopped, noticing the glint in her eyes and the way her lips curled up into a wide smirk. His eyes narrowed. "You're joking."

"Well, teasing, actually," Danielle corrected. "So what are you doing here?"

"I should probably wait until Sam and Dean return." He took a seat at the table, glancing at the neat purple writing sprawled over the pages. "What were you doing?"

"Trying – and by that I mean failing _miserably_ – to decipher the mess that is Revelations. I'm trying to reread it now, and I'm still as lost as I was when I read it when I was fifteen."

Castiel just bobbed his head, strangely calm despite the fact that he had earth-shattering news for the trio. Being around Danielle could have that effect; she was very humbling. She could joke around – not that Castiel would catch it half the time – and have a good sense of humor and still make grieving people happy, stressed people calm, and angry people rational.

"Hey, did Dean ever tell you about the future he saw with Zach?" Danielle questioned, her teeth flashing at the angel.

"No. He never got around to it."

Danielle suddenly threw her head back, laughing and kicking her legs. "Oh, my _gosh_. Listen, _I _was a vampire. A _vampire_. And I wore leather. I mean, if that's not the most messed up thing you've ever heard, there's something wrong with you. But that's not even the best part – "

At that moment, Sam and Dean stepped into the door. They glanced back and forth between Danielle's wide smile and Castiel's furrowed brow.

"Well, if it isn't Bradgelina," Dean teased as a greeting, tossing his coat on the counter.

Danielle barked a laugh while Castiel just furrowed his brow in his typical confused expression.

"You got our message," Sam stated, sitting down in the chair.

"It's lucky you found him," Castiel replied, rising to his feet.

"So what do we do with him?" Sam questioned.

"Kill him."

The room went dead silent. Danielle stared at Cas, her smile fading as she wondered if he was actually serious. He seemed to be, considering how Danielle knew he had literally no sense of humor.

"Cas," Dean chastised.

"This boy is half demon, half human, and far more powerful than both. He's known as many names, but in your culture he's referred to as the Antichrist."

Unfortunately, Danielle had just taken a gulp of her drink. The proclamation made her choke on the soda, spitting it all over her shirt. She started coughing, turning red in the face. The boys all watched her with varying degrees of concern, Dean wondering if he should go over and start the Heimlich.

She finally stopped, panting and glancing up at the angel. "He's like, seven, Cas," she reminded, slightly surprising the boys. They'd expected some witty joke at her own expense, not the seriousness she was showing now.

"And he will grow up to be Lucifer's greatest weapon," he argued.

Danielle's lip curved down into a deep frown, and she shook her head. "We're not killing a kid. I don't care who he is."

Castiel lost his casual – well, as casual as he could get – stance, seeming to grow a little more rigid. "A few months ago you would have done anything to stop the apocalypse and save the angels."

Danielle looked apologetic, giving a sheepish shake of her head. "I'm sorry, Cas, but from what I've seen there's not much worth saving."

Castiel's jaw clenched, and Danielle's heart skipped a beat at the actual _anger _that he showed. His blue eyes blazed, and he took a threatening step forwards. And even though Danielle was ten feet away, sitting on a counter, she shrunk backwards.

Dean quickly stepped between the two, diverting Castiel's furious gaze before Danielle did something stupid. "Okay, we are not going to kill him. But we can't leave him here. So we take him to Bobby's."

"You'll kidnap him?" Castiel challenged.

Dean shrugged, sharing a glance with Sam, who just cocked his eyebrows.

"What's happening in this town, is what this thing does when it's _happy._ You can not _imagine _what'll happen when it's angry."

"His name is Jessie, not _it_," Danielle interrupted.

"Then we tell him the truth," Dean proposed.

"You say he's destined to go dark side, fine, but he should at least get the choice," Sam added, stepping forwards. "We lay it all out for him; the apocalypse, demons, everything, then he might make the right choice!"

Danielle's heart panged for Sam and the obvious parallel with his life that was happening. Sam was _not_ a bad person, and for him to have his burden on his shoulders made Danielle want to cry.

Castiel leaned forward just slightly, nostrils flaring as he spat out his next words like venom: "_You _didn't. And I can't take that chance."

Danielle's jaw dropped, and Dean looked away before Castiel disappeared, leaving them alone in the tense and heavy silence.

Sam was the first to break it with a quiet 'dammit' of frustration.

"We have to get to Jessie's," Danielle stated, jumping off the counter and slipping her feet into her flip-flops. She was the first in the car, waiting impatiently for Sam and Dean to catch up.

She was _not_ about to let a little boy die.

* * *

Danielle jumped out of the car before it even came to a stop, sprinting up the driveway with a speed that surprised Sam and Dean.

She burst into the house, catching the edge of a trench coat disappearing around a corner. She dashed after it, running into the living room. Castiel took a threatening step towards the child, who was cowering in the corner, demon knife raised high over his head.

Danielle didn't think. She switched to autopilot, letting her instincts take over. She jumped forward, shoving Castiel (which did absolutely nothing; he was a rock) before nabbing Jessie. She turned her back to the angel, smothering the child against her chest and shoving herself into the corner. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that Castiel could find enough compassion in him not to kill her.

A frantic heartbeat later, heavy boot steps echoed through the house as Sam and Dean thundered across the threshold.

"Danny, where's Cas?!" Dean demanded.

Danielle, confused, risked a glance over her shoulder, seeing that the angel had disappeared. She heaved a sigh of relief, leaning her forehead against the child's hair for a moment.

She stepped out of the corner, still holding Jessie as she moved towards the brothers. Her foot suddenly kicked something, and she looked down.

"Uh… guys?" The boys followed her bewildered gaze to the ground, where a little action figure of Castiel was lying on its side. Dean leaned down, picking it up carefully.

Danielle could only think how lucky she and her clumsy feet hadn't stepped on him. She set the boy down, dropping to her knees and ignoring the very terrifying thought that she was face-to-face with the Antichrist.

His green eyes were wide, tears shining in the corners. "Who _was_ that?" he asked, his voice shrill with fear.

Danielle shook her head. "It doesn't matter; you're okay now."

"He tried to kill me!" he exclaimed, a tear running down his freckled cheek. "Why did he want to kill me?"

"Oh, honey," Danielle sighed, her heart cracking in her chest. She reached up, wiping away the tear and cupping his face. "It's because …"

"You're special," Dean stated, stepping in for her. "You have powers."

"Like a superhero," Danielle added, a comforting smile spreading across her face.

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Me?"

"Yeah! Who else could turn somebody into a _toy_?" Dean set Castiel down on the mantel, and Danielle led Jessie to the couch, sitting down beside him. "You're a superhero."

Dean crouched down into front of Jessie. "You see, my partners and I work for a secret government agency. Our job is to find kids with special powers. In fact, we're gonna take you to a secret base in South Dakota, where you can train."

"Like the X-Men?" Jessie perked up, an excited smile splitting across his tear-stained face.

"Exactly. The guy we're taking you to even has a wheelchair. You'll be a hero; you'll get to save lives, get the girl. Sounds great, huh?"

Jessie nodded, looking up as Dean rose to his feet, shooting Sam a glance. Out of nowhere, Dean suddenly went flying, slamming up against the wall with a loud grunt of pain.

"They're lying to you."

Danielle instinctively grabbed Jessie, only risking a quick glance to the demon strutting in the room before jumping to her feet. She started running towards the front door, but Jessie slipped from her fingers as she slammed against another wall.

Pain exploded through her back, making her let out a faint whimper.

Sam rose to his feet and made a move towards Jessie but quickly found himself in the same predicament as Dean and Danielle.

"Stay right there, dreamboat. Can't hurt you. Orders." The demon, possessing a pretty blonde woman in an oversized cargo jacket, turned her murderous gaze on Dean, a smirk spreading across her face. "Hurting you is encouraged." She held out a hand, telepathically bouncing him around the walls like a ping-pong.

"Leave him alone!" Jessie protested.

The woman started explaining to the boy how everything he'd been told was a lie. Danielle couldn't help but wince; she was coming up with an impressive list. Any adult would feel overwhelmed, let alone an easily swayed child.

Danielle cast a glance towards the angel statue on the mantel, wishing that he could come back to smite the demon. Jessie clutched his fist, and the walls started trembling. The lights flickered and plaster rain down, speckling Danielle's dark hair with white. If the demon kept going on, Jessie might actually get angry enough to kill them.

"Jessie, listen-" Danielle started before the demon whirled around, clenching her fist.

Danielle gasped loudly as something deep inside her twisted, sending flares of pain shooting through her body. She gritted her teeth, groaning as flashes of white temporarily blinded her.

"Stop!" Jessie protested, and the demon released her.

Danielle sucked in air, feeling whatever the demon had been playing with snap back into its normal place. She leaned her head back against the wall, shutting her eyes as a bead of sweat rolled down her cheek.

She faintly listened to Sam's moving speech to Jessie, the blood rushing loudly in her ears. Jessie was swayed by his argument, forcing the demon out of his birth mother with hardly any effort.

Danielle dropped down to the ground, hitting her knees against the hard floor. She grunted in pain, using the mantel to pull herself to her feet. Dean shot her a questioning look, mouthing, "You okay?" She responded with a faint nod and a grateful glance towards Sam.

"Will she be alright?" Jessie asked, staring at the woman, who was slumped over in the chair.

Danielle headed over, pressing her fingers against her neck. The familiar drum tapped against her fingertips, slow but steady. "Yeah, she'll be fine. And I went to med school, so I know."

Dean bent over, setting the fire grate to its original position and picking up the angel in his hands. "Truth is … He's actually a buddy of mine. Do you think you could put him back?"

"He tried to kill me!" Jessie protested, a flash of anger and betrayal showing in his eyes.

"Jessie, just because someone is mean to you doesn't mean you have to be mean back," Danielle preached gently, crouching down. "It makes _you_ look bad because you're stooping to his level. Be the better person; we won't let him hurt you."

"And he's not a bad guy," Dean added. "He was just confused."

Jessie looked indecisive for a moment, reluctant fear clear on his face.

"It's okay to be scared," Danielle stated, her eyes morose even as she let a smile flicker across her face. "But I _promise_ you, he will not hurt you. I'll protect you, just like last time."

"Promise?" Jessie asked, forest-green eyes spread wide.

"_Pinky_ promise," Danielle replied, holding out her pinky. He twisted his around hers before Dean let out a loud shout of surprise.

Castiel popped back to normal size, disgruntledly spinning around in confusion. He whirled to face Danielle and Jessie, eyes locking on the boy. He took a threatening step forwards, his grip on the knife tightening, and Danielle immediately intercepted him.

The woman who so normally cowered in fear at the slightest noise stood tall, shoulders back and chin up. Her warm brown eyes were hard and narrowed as she glared straight at the angel.

Her strangeness halted him, and he furrowed his brow in slight confusion.

"_No, _Castiel," she growled, feeling Jessie's shaking hand slip into hers. She squeezed his fingers in comfort, never looking away from Castiel.

"Jessie, why don't you go say goodbye to your parents," Sam suggested.

Jessie looked expectantly up at Danielle, who gave him a nod and a comforting smile. Jessie pulled his hand away, turning and running up the stairs.

Castiel took a step in pursuit, and Danielle quickly side-stepped him, cutting him off. "Give me the knife."

Castiel, bewildered, turned to look at Dean, who nodded to the angel. "I have to kill him," he protested.

"He's not dying, Cas!" she exclaimed. "You fell from heaven so you could do _good. _Killing a child, no matter how evil he's destined to be, is _evil. _It's _demonic._" She held out her hand expectantly, dropping her harsh tone. "Just give it to me," she pleaded.

Castiel stared at her for a moment, wondering where the sudden courage had come from. Finally he handed her the knife.

She grabbed the hilt, letting out a faint sigh of relief and passing it to Dean, who smirked at her. He had an expression on his face that she'd never seen before, and most definitely not ever directed at her – pride. "Nice backbone, princess," he praised.

Her heart swelled, and she stood up even straighter.

"What will you do with him?" Castiel demanded.

"Take him to Bobby's," Danielle retorted before Dean could. "We are going to make sure he grows up to be good."

Castiel's eyes narrowed, and Danielle realized the angel was – once again – angry with her. "Let's hope."

Suddenly, his eyes popped wide open, and his gaze shot towards the roof. And then he disappeared.

"Jessie!" Danielle shouted, fearing the worst as she stormed up the stairs. She burst into his room, where Castiel was hovering near the bed. "Castiel!" she exclaimed, her voice shrill with fear and dread.

Castiel turned, handing her a folded sheet of paper that had been resting on the boy's pillow. For all the world, he was wearing an _I-told-you-so _expression while she opened the note.

"'Dear Mom and Dad'," Danielle read to the three boys clustered around her. "'I had to leave to keep you two safe. Please don't be mad, and don't come looking for me. I love you. Jessie.'"

She folded the note, an unexpected lump rising in her throat. She had been looking forward to watching after him. He would have been a good distraction from all the scary apocalypse stuff (which was ironic, considering how he played a major role). She didn't miss Castiel dropping his gaze in shame.

"He's a good kid," she muttered, handing Dean the note. She turned to the angel, who was refusing to make eye contact with anyone. "I'm sorry if I made you angry, Cas. I just didn't want anymore kids to die."

Danielle turned away, a deep frown carved into her lips as she sullenly made her way out of the house and into the Impala. She leaned her head against the window, closing her eyes and struggling to breathe past the lump in her throat. Bitter tears rose in her brown eyes, and her heart felt like it was about to break.

She hadn't meant to let Jessie slip away. She hadn't meant for anyone to slip away; especially not Sophie. Sophie had just been a kid. _Fifteen years old. _Her life had hardly started before it was cruelly yanked away from her.

Danielle would never let another kid die. She learned her lesson the hard way. If it meant standing up to an angel with a knife clutched in their hand, so be it. She felt so strongly and passionately about children that she was sure she would jump in front of Lucifer himself if it meant keeping a child safe.

* * *

**Destiny Xavier16:** Don't we all... Haha thanks for the review!

**NotCrazyJustWeird97: **Me too. Dan _needs_ to be in the show. And lol, I'm glad she made someone laugh XD AND ME TOO omg, the whoopie cushion LOL.. Thanks for the review (:

**Rafanan: **Hmmm, we'll see (; Thanks!


	12. AU

**Chapter 11: **

**AU**

_"And the angel answered him, 'I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I was sent to speak to you and to bring you this good news." – Luke 1:19_

Three Days Later

Danielle had felt uneasy. Something had been seriously wrong, but she just didn't know what. She had chalked it down to paranoia, but, as she stood in the waiting room of Seattle Mercy Hospital donning faint blue scrubs, she realized that she'd been right.

"No way…" she breathed, her heart pattering like a machine gun in her chest as she stared, agape. "Are we in …"

"Dr. Sexy M.D!" Dean confirmed.

"Oh, my freaking gosh, I don't even know what's going on, but I don't even care!" she shrieked, resisting the urge to let out her inner fan girl.

Dean was clearly having the same problem, an excited grin spreading across his face.

"If I see Dr. Sexy, someone's gonna have to perform CPR, okay?" Danielle demanded before turning and striding down the halls. Dean fell into step beside her, and Sam followed hesitantly from behind, wondering what had happened to his brother and Danielle.

"Dude, what the hell?" Dean asked.

"I dunno," Sam replied.

Danielle stopped dead in her tracks as Dr. Ellen came charging up, slapping Sam across the face as hard as she could. Danielle winced; she'd seen that slap many times and knew just how deadly it could be.

"Seriously?!" Dr. Ellen demanded.

"Lady, what the hell?" came Sam's sharp retort.

"You are a coward. A brilliant, brilliant coward." She slapped him one last time for good measure before stalking off.

"I don't even like her, and I almost just kissed her," Danielle confessed, eyes huge.

"_Right?_" Dean agreed with enthusiasm.

"This is my favorite show," she whispered. "I don't even know what to feel right now."

"How about _panic_?" Sam suggested. "If the Trickster stuck us in T.V. land, then we have to get out of here!"

"T.V. land?" Dean echoed, snorting. "Now that's just stupid. There are supposed to be actors, cameras! This looks _real_."

Danielle just shook her head, shushing the boys. "Don't ask questions. Just enjoy."

Dr. Wang suddenly passed, offering Dean a sly smirk before rounding the corner and strutting away.

"That's Dr. Wang," Dean informed his brother. "The brilliant, but arrogant, heart surgeon. And that's Johnny Drake."

Danielle gasped, whirling around and spotting the man sitting on the hospital cot. She clapped a hand over her mouth, resisting the urge to start crying. "Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh."

"This show has _ghosts_?" Sam questioned scornfully, an eyebrow cocked in distaste.

"They're my favorite characters," Danielle breathed in admiration.

"Danny, are you about to cry?" Sam demanded, brow furrowed.

"His death was very tragic!" Danielle barked, blinking several times to keep the tears back. She got very emotionally attached to her shows, okay? "Don't judge me."

"Oh, no," Dean suddenly muttered. Danielle followed his gaze, and her jaw nearly hit the floor.

"What?" Sam questioned, at a loss.

"It's him; it's Dr. Sexy," Dean mumbled, averting his eyes as the doctor strolled up.

"Doctor," he greeted in his deep, churning voice.

"Doctor," Dean returned, barely able to speak.

"Doctor," Dr. Sexy stated, turning to Sam. Sam just stared confusedly at the man before Dean kicked him, and he gave back the traditional response.

Dr. Sexy turned to Danielle, his eyes suddenly sparking. A cruel smirk crossed his face, but she was too smitten to notice it. "Danielle."

She jerked her gaze up, shocked past words. She was face to face with her television idol, _and he knew her name._

"Why don't you go check on your patient?" he suggested.

Danielle furrowed her brow. "Sor-" she started before she suddenly glitched away, leaving Sam and Dean alone with Dr. Sexy.

* * *

Danielle threw up an arm, shielding her eyes from the onslaught of bright flashes. It was dark, wherever she was, and she couldn't see anything because of the lights coming from the space in front of her. Those, and the multicolored lights hanging from the ceiling, pointed on her. She let her arm fall down to her side, frowning and trying to see past the flashes. Was she … in front of a crowd?

The audience was quiet, and the tension in the air could be split with a knife. Danielle furrowed her brow at the people dressed in respectable suits, shifting her weight to her other leg. Satin material brushed against her skin, and she glanced down to see that gone was the loose pair of light-colored jeans and conservative long-sleeve under a brown jacket. They were replaced with a jet-black dress that fell down to her knees, one side continuing to trail down to her ankle.

She glanced back up as someone coughed, an awkward, uneasy sound. Her heart began to thud, and she felt light-headed, like she was breathing through a straw. They were all staring at her; was she supposed to be doing something?

The audience and herself stared at each other for a long moment before someone demanded, "You gonna play something or not?"

Danielle turned, feeling her heart sink as she realized the piano sitting on the stage beside her. This was a _piano recital_, the very thing that used to plague her childhood. It was the reason she stopped playing; she couldn't handle going up on stage in front of a sea of people and messing up.

This was the freaking trickster, she realized, a bitter taste rising in her mouth. She was shaking so badly her vision was starting to blur, but she mustered up every tiny ounce of courage she had to move towards the piano. It was hard; her joints had locked up, so it was like using two wooden planks as legs. It wasn't until she'd sat down that she remembered she was supposed to bow and say her name.

She hadn't even started playing, and she'd already messed up.

This wasn't real, was it? The Trickster created his own universes. But good _grief, _this was so mortifyingly, humiliatingly real. Danielle would never be able to go out in public for the rest of her life.

Her brain was whirling, digging through her memories for _something_ that she remembered to play. She hadn't played since she was fifteen, and that had been almost ten years ago. And now she was supposed to recall something from memory?

She stared at the keys, her hands resting on top of the smooth black and white pieces. Once upon a time, her fingers knew where to go without her having to think; the keys were a map, not a jumbled mess of black and white. The piano had never been threatening; it had been comforting, a place to pour out her emotions, as cliché as that sounded.

She pressed her finger down on one of the white keys, hearing the C echo around them. The silence somehow got even louder, and Danielle could hear her blood rushing, paired with the frantic thuds of her heart.

"Danielle?"

She spun around, chocolate eyes huge as she clambered up from the bench. A rush of relief poured over her; the angel was here to save her.

"Are you alright?"

"No!" she exclaimed. "Help me!"

Castiel stepped forward, shooting a confused glance out to the audience before they disappeared. Danielle frowned, glancing around and seeing a man had appeared on the stage.

His slow claps were deafening, and the cruel smirk on his face made Danielle's heart sink. _Crap, crap, crap. _They were so beyond screwed.

"Hey sweetheart. You look much more … _alive_ since I last saw you."

She looked back at Castiel, who jerked his gaze over to the archangel. His eyes nearly fell out of his head before Gabriel raised a hand, snapping his fingers and making him disappear.

"What'd you do to him?" Danielle demanded, a spark of irritation flaring up in her chest. She should've realized this was his mess. Castiel was the only one with an angel blade, and he was gone who-knows-where. Sam and Dean were hunting a Trickster; they'd never escape if they didn't find out the truth, and fast.

"Shoulda known your angel bf would show up," he said with a smirk. "Don't worry; I sent him somewhere good and far away."

"What do you want with us?" she asked, apprehensive of the devious look in the angel's eyes.

Gabriel let out a degrading chuckle, making her cringe. "Silly, that'll ruin the game!"

"G-Game? What game?"

He waggled his eyebrows, leaning forward and bending his fingers in a suggestive wave. "Bye-bye."

The surroundings changed so suddenly that Danielle toppled over, head spinning. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, terrified of what new horror she would be placed in. When she opened her eyes, she found she was in some dark house. She sat up, squinting in confusion at the dilapidated walls and floors. The room she was in – she assumed it was the living room; she could see the hallway leading to the kitchen and a stairway leading upstairs – was completely bare, except for a few two-by-fours leaning against the far wall.

She glanced down, letting out a sigh of relief when she realized she was wearing _her_ clothes. She clambered up to her feet just as a flash of light split through the room. She shrieked, jumping and whirling around to see Castiel grappling with some other person (an angel, most likely). The angel put Cas in a headlock, and, no matter how much he struggled, Castiel couldn't get away.

"Stop!" Danielle cried, to no avail.

Castiel's face was red as he sputtered, choking while his windpipe was crushed by the angel. Veins popped out in his forehead and his neck, and he pulled at the angel's arm with as much strength as he could muster.

"Danielle!" he called through his gritted teeth. His eyes were wide, and he looked so scared. And, of course, Danielle was terrified at seeing the stoic, stony man so emotional.

As the panic descended, her mind cleared, switching to autopilot. She charged forwards, muscles tensed to tackle the enemy. Except…

She collided face-first with the wall behind the two and reeled backwards, hand cupping her face. Her nose stung, and her eyes smarted. She pulled her hand away, blood covering her shaking hands. She turned around, staggering as her world spun.

The angel pulled out an angel blade, ripping it across Castiel's throat. A scream cut through the air, and it took Danielle until she saw the blood pouring down his neck to realize it was her screaming. Her hands clapped over her mouth, and tears she hadn't known were about to fall were coating her fingers, mingling with the blood dripping from her nose.

Danielle ran forward, arms outstretched in order to catch the angel, but her foot snagged on a stray two-by-four, and she fell, skidding her palms on the splintered wood panels.

She clambered to her knees, turning and watching Cas drop heavily to his knees. He was facing her, wide eyes staring straight at her, but … it was like they were going through her. His lips moved, but no sound came out, just a fountain of blood spewing from the cut in his throat. He toppled over to his side, and Danielle crawled over to him, reaching for his head.

Her hands went right through him, slamming against the floor. She gasped in pain, cradling them to her chest, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She couldn't touch him.

"Cas!" she exclaimed, waving her hand in front of his face. He was unresponsive to her efforts, eyes moving from side to side.

"D… Dan…"

"Cas, I'm right here!" she said, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached for him again, placing a tentative hand on his chest. Nothing. She felt only air before her hand went right through his body. "Cas!"

"Danielle…" he breathed, and her heart broke knowing that Cas's last wish was to see her, was to get help from her, and she was _right there_ but he didn't know it.

"Oh, my gosh, oh, my gosh," she said over and over, grabbing the hair at her temples. She didn't know what to do; she was panicking. He couldn't die, not again, not in front of her, not again. They were friends now; she didn't want to lose him! She didn't want to lose anyone! He was their only hope of getting out of this alive; he was the only one with an angel blade!

How could they fight without him? The odds were one in a million _with him_; without the angel, there was literally _no chance_ of them beating Lucifer. He _had_ to live, he had to!

His body jerked, and he let out one long, last breath.

"No, no, no, Cas, don't die!" she sobbed, concentrating as hard as she could, hoping that by some miracle she would be able to touch him.

His eyes stayed frozen, staring up at the ceiling. Danielle watched as they glazed over, the brilliant blue irises turning filmy and gray. Danielle let out a sob, burying her head in her hands. Practically her whole body ached with pain, but she didn't care. Cas had just died, _right in front of her, _with her being powerless to stop it.

"Danielle!"

The girl spun around, her stunned eyes focusing on the angel behind her. He was unsteady, swaying on his feet, and he had a cut on his temple. _But he was alive. _She scrambled up, staring at him, hardly able to believe it. She glanced back at the dead Castiel on the floor, then back at him, eyebrow furrowed. Which one was the real Castiel?

Castiel's gaze dropped to his dead doppelganger, and his brow wrinkled up in confusion. He looked back at Danielle, taking in the tears running down her face and the blood running from her nose. A bruise was already forming around the bridge of her nose and around her eyes. She was torn, staring at Castiel in distrust.

"It's me," he promised.

"Well, wasn't that _touching._"

Danielle flinched, whirling around to see Gabriel standing over the dead Castiel. He stared down at the corpse, tilting his head to the side and sighing. "Great job, sweetheart. Fantastic performance."

"Which one is real?" she choked out, desperate to know.

Gabriel snapped his fingers, and the body behind him faded away. Danielle let out a huge breath of relief before wiping at her cheeks, ashamed to have thrown such a fit over something that wasn't even real.

"Let them go," Castiel ordered.

Gabriel hummed, looking to the side as if he was thinking. "Hm… Nah, I'll pass."

Castiel suddenly lurched forwards, swinging a fist at Gabriel, who just smirked. Danielle abruptly found herself being the one in front of Cas, and she barely had time to throw up her arms as his knuckles slammed mercilessly into her shoulder.

She let out a cry of pain, cupping her throbbing arm and biting her lip to keep back the stinging tears in the corner of her eyes. She knew something horrible had happened – she'd heard the pop – but she wasn't quite sure what. She tried to move it, a flash of agony snatching her breath away. It definitely was dislocated. Castiel's eyes widened, and he turned around to see Gabriel behind him, smirking.

Danielle turned her terrified gaze on Cas, who dove for Gabriel again.

The archangel moved so fast Danielle didn't see him move. She just watched Castiel's body slammed into the far wall, disappearing in a pile of splintered two-by-fours. She gasped, attempting to run over to him.

"Why don't you kick back and relax, hm?" Gabriel asked, waving his hand.

Danielle found herself slammed into a seat, arms glued to the arms of the chair. She struggled against the invisible restraints to no avail. Danielle looked at Cas, who staggered up to his feet. Blood trickled from his nose and from several cuts and tears along his arms, and he stumbled from side to side, having problems balancing.

The angel suddenly disappeared, and Danielle felt a hand grip her upper arm. The chair jerked out from underneath her, and her feet hit hard pavement. She clutched onto Castiel, stumbling and glancing around. Castiel released her, opening the door in front of them and storming in. Danielle followed, her right arm hanging limply at her side.

They seemed to be in some brighter, cleaner version of their motel room. Sam and Dean turned their shocked gaze as the couple staggered into the room, bruised and bleeding.

"Are you two okay?!" Dean demanded.

"This thing is much too strong for a trickster," Castiel started to explain before getting blasted against the wall. He hit it with a dull thud, and the audience barked an appreciative laugh.

Gabriel jumped into the room, kicking his foot up in the air. Danielle's heart nearly busted through her chest, and she turned to the boys in a full panic. "It's Ga-"

Something was lodged in her throat. She furrowed her brow and tried to clear her throat. With a start, she realized she couldn't breathe. Her hands flitted up to her neck, her face turning purple. She started coughing, her body shaking.

She coughed up the thing in her throat, spitting out the soggy lump in her hand. With trembling fingers, she opened the page and realized it was a page out of Revelations.

Her eyes went huge as another page blocked her airway. Her vision turning black, she dropped to her knees, an arm around her midsection as she struggled to spit out the next page.

Castiel looked at the archangel from his knees, a piece of duck tape smothered across his lips. His eyes were as wide as Danielle's, fixed on the boys as he tried to convey a message.

Danielle held out her uninjured arm, flapping it up and down like it was a wing. She shot the brothers pointed looks, but they just stared at her in confusion, hardly able to hear anything over the roar of the crowd.

She pointed to Cas, and then pointed to Gabriel, who smirked at the two.

"Bye-bye," he stated, flicking his fingers and making the battered couple disappear.

* * *

Danielle felt something tickling the back of her neck.

Her eyelashes fluttered open, and she reached out behind her, hoping to whack the troublesome Winchester in the head. She missed, though, pulling her arm back in front of her chest. She hoped her efforts would be enough to drive him away, and she curled up tighter, wrapping her arms around her chest and tucking her knees in closer. She closed her eyes, just about to drift off again when she felt something brush against her arm.

Fearing it to be a bug, she swatted at her arm, her fingers coming into contact with something that felt like her hair. Her hand closed around it, and she brought it in front of her face, peering down at the long lock. It took her a moment in her groggy state to realize what was happening; what _was_ that soft, sheering noise? It couldn't be… It wasn't…

Danielle sat bolt upright, jerking her head to the right only to watch the door bang shut, and hear snickers echo in from the hallway. A pair of scissors rested on the bed, surrounded by locks of hair.

"Oh, no, no, no," she groaned, jumping up and running into the bathroom. She grabbed onto the sink, letting her hair fall in front of her shoulders. She watched as the color drained from her own face.

_Her hair was gone. _

Not completely, but it might as well have been. Where it had previously reached the small of her back, just a couple inches from reaching her waist, it was now a few inches past her shoulders, the ends resting a few inches below her collarbone.

_Oh, no, no, no! _Who in the _heck_ had cut-

Gabriel.

Her fingers tightened on the edge of the sink, and she let out a scream between her gritted teeth. She was _sick_ of being pushed around by the stupid archangel.

"Alright!" she shouted. "What do you want from me?"

The snickers that had been outside the room were now in inside, coming from the room. She turned to see him leaning in the doorway, red in the face from holding back his laughter. He pressed his trembling lips together, angling his head towards her hair. "Did you … do somethingdifferentwithyourhair?" The last bit came out as one word before he bent over, clapping his hands together and wheezing.

"What do you _want, _Gabriel? Are you gonna kill us?"

He waved a hand, taking a minute to straighten up and stop wheezing. He shook his head, grinning. "Oh, no, you guys are too much fun for that."

"So, what, you're gonna keep us like this forever?" she snapped. The uncertainty of the future loomed ahead of her, and she found herself longing for it be that morning again. She wanted to be curled up in that crappy motel bed, competing with the roaches for the blankets. Anything was better than being played with.

"Or until your two knuckleheads agree to be the vessels. Don't s'pose you know a way to get it through their thick skulls any faster?"

Danielle shook her head, eyes hard. "Please, Gabriel, just let us go."

"How abou-"

Her surroundings changed. Danielle stumbled, finding herself in a warehouse. She whirled around, brow furrowed. "Gabriel?" she called, confused. Had his fantasy world broken? Somehow, she'd gotten free. Unless this was another universe.

She jogged over to the door, opening it and letting out an audible sigh of relief. The Impala. "Oh, my gosh," she muttered, stroking the top of the car in appreciation. "I never thought I'd be so happy to see you."

Had the boys realized what Gabriel was? Had they killed him, or somehow made him stop? She opened the door, grabbing her cell phone from the glove compartment. She went through all three of the boys' phone numbers, hoping they were just away from their phones. Maybe they'd come out from their universes in different places. Or maybe… Maybe this was just another universe.

Danielle swallowed her fear. There was only one way to find out. She clambered into the driver's seat, running her fingers over the wheel. She knew how protective Dean was about his car, and if he could see her now, about to drive it… She shook her head, feeling rebellious as she started the car, heading towards their hotel.

* * *

Danielle closed the motel door, stiffening. She sucked in a breath, her heart hammering in her chest at the rancid stench of blood. She closed her eyes, and she could just _feel_ that something was so wrong. Every instinct screamed at her to wrench open the door, flee, run! You haven't seen anything yet, you can still go; ignorance is bliss, after all.

But the curiosity would kill her, and she knew it.

She turned around, feeling her heart stop. A scream ripped out of her throat, and she pressed her back against the motel door, fingers scrabbling against the smooth wood.

Sam was the closest. He was sitting in the chair at the table in their kitchen area and, at first glance, he seemed fine. But all it took was a closer look to see the blood coating his neck, the blood all over the table and all over the floor. One arm was resting on the table, lying next to the bowl full of crimson liquid, as if he had been planning to eat before his throat was ripped out. His eyes were wide-open, staring straight ahead of him. He hadn't known what hit him.

Dean was slumped up against the refrigerator, shotgun in his hands. His face was screwed up in pain, and one of his stiff fingers were resting on the trigger, like he'd been just about to shoot. He'd been killed the same as Sam; his throat had been ripped open. Except, it didn't look like it had come from a knife. If anything, it almost looked like a … a bite. There was a bloody handprint on the wall beside him, as if he had reached out for another weapon and had only had the wall.

Danielle took slow steps forward, feet squelching in the blood because, no matter where she walked, the blood was _everywhere. _It was splattered on the walls, a small lake covering the ground. Despite her best efforts, it sloshed over the edges of her flip-flops and splashed on her toes. It was sticky and still warm, and Danielle felt her stomach churn, nausea rising in her throat.

Bobby was next, lying stomach-down in the small space between the ends of the beds and the dresser of the opposite wall. His ear was angled down to the ground, and Danielle could just see his open eyes under his bloody ball cap. Like the brothers, his neck was torn open.

Her mind went straight to vampires, but she shoved the thought away. It was childish; a notion right out of a romance-novel. Dean said vampires were almost extinct and struggling to survive. They wouldn't come out in broad daylight and slay the vessels of Michael and Lucifer. That was suicide.

She took a few more steps, eyes raising up. She let out a choked scream, staggering backwards and clamping a hand over her mouth. Her flip-flops squelched.

Castiel had a lamp-stand shoved in his chest, pinning him up to the wall. His arms and head hung, limp as a rag doll's. Blood covered the front of his body, including the trench coat. It dripped down onto the carpet below him, creating a stain on the dark floor.

Danielle reached up and grabbed onto the sides of her face, letting out a strangled cry. Her stomach jumped, and she held her hair back as she threw up next to the puddles of blood. What was she supposed to do? _What was she supposed to do?!_

"Don't you think that's a bit dramatic?"

Danielle whirled around only to see… herself?

She was donned head-to-toe in leather: knee-high, stiletto, black boots, skin-tight leather pants, a black tank-top, and a studded leather jacket. Her hair hung straight in a curtain to her waist, and her skin had some unearthly, alluring glow to it. Her eyes looked black, but maybe that was just because of the angle. Her lips at first pouted but now were pulled up into a sardonic smirk, head tilted to the side as her eyes raked up and down her doppelganger.

"We have _so much_ to talk about."


	13. Parallels

**Chapter 12:**

**Parallels**

_"Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you." – James 4:7_

"Who… What?" Danielle stammered, staring at the girl who looked exactly like her except… not. There was something wrong with her, apart from the fact that she was wearing leather. Her skin… and her _eyes. _

"What? You don't recognize yourself?" the woman asked, smirking and batting her lashes.

Danielle's jaw dropped, and she took a step backwards, eyes widening in fear.

The other Danielle gasped in mock-horror, mirroring Danielle's actions. "Oh, my _God, _it's me from the future! How _terrifying!"_ She rolled her eyes. "Please, I'm not going to hurt you. That would be idiotic."

"Wh-Wha- I mean… How?" Danielle struggled to get a coherent word out. _This_ was her … in the future? No way.

"I told you; I have to talk to you," she said. "I'm from the year 2014."

Danielle furrowed her brow. 2014? That was the year Dean had gone to, and she'd died. This couldn't be real, then.

"Yes, I know. Technically… I'm dead." There was something strange with her voice. It wasn't as high-pitched as hers was now, it was … deeper. Softer. It was entrancing, like she was singing, except she wasn't. She was just talking, but it was memorizing.

"What's going on?" Danielle demanded. "What _happened_?"

The future Danielle stared at her for a second, her eyes sending a chill down her spine. Then the other Danielle grinned, revealing her bloody teeth. Danielle's heart stopped, and she staggered backwards, trying to _get away_, from herself, from the _monster_ in front of her. Her back hit Castiel's frigid body, and she shrieked, jumping forwards.

The Danielle Dean had met in 2014 had been _a vampire. _Danielle had killed everyone; she'd ripped out their throats and sucked up their blood, but not before splashing it all over the floors and walls, like some kind of sick flag. Like she was marking her territory.

"What do you want from me?" Danielle asked, her voice shrill with panic. She wasn't in any danger, that she knew, but she was still terrified. This beast, this _vampire_ in front of her had killed her friends, her family.

The other Danielle rolled her eyes, taking a loping step forward. She seemed to dance when she moved, and it was almost hypnotizing. "God, was I _really_ this annoying? It's a wonder somebody hasn't killed you yet. I just want to talk."

"Why?" Danielle demanded, fighting against the tears smarting in the corners of her eyes. "Why did you kill them?"

The other Danielle furrowed her brow at her just slightly, almost as if the answer was obvious. "Because I wanted to," she answered. "Because _we_ wanted to."

"I am _not _you," Danielle growled, glaring at herself.

Her twin stuck out her chin, smirking, a mad glint in her dark eyes. "You will be. _This_ is your future." She spread her arms out, letting Danielle take in everything about her doppelganger. "It's set in stone. Dean has seen it."

"I'm not gonna kill everybody!" Danielle argued. "I die!"

"And did Dean tell you how?" the other Danielle challenged, eyebrow cocked. "Hm? Did sweet, lil' Dean tell you about how the Croatoans poured out of all the houses? Did he tell you how I let him and Cas walk away clean, while I stayed behind. Did he tell you how he just sat there while the Croatoans swarmed me, overwhelming me and literally _tearing me to shreds._ And let me tell you, it wasn't pleasant. Shreds of skin were ripped off of my body, and I didn't die. I _watched_ as they feasted on my dead flesh, on the blood running in my veins."

"Stop," Danielle whispered, feeling another bout of nausea rising in her throat.

"It's disgusting, isn't it?" the other Danielle questioned. "But that's not what I came here to say."

"You didn't come here to talk, you came here to kill," Danielle spat, shooting a glare at the vampire.

The vampire just smirked, her eyes harsh and cold, making goosebumps rise on Danielle's arms. "God, don't you ever get sick of crying? I mean, does it _ever_ get old?"

Danielle, floored by the question, just gaped at her.

"You're _weak,_" the other Danielle growled, taking a slow step closer. "You're helpless, pathetic. You're a _burden_. You may think you're so strong what with all the training you're getting from Bobby and Dean, but you're not. You've been training for a month, and you're up against creatures that were created with fighting installed in their hardrives. Do you realize how hopelessly outmatched you are?"

Danielle's chest heaved. The vampire was right, of course, but she couldn't listen to her. She _wouldn't._

"Hey, I'm on your side. I'm rooting for _you,_" she coaxed, her voice dripping like honey. "I want you to be strong, strong enough to fight."

Her twin was quiet for a second, waiting for Danielle to realize what she was saying. When she did, Danielle's jaw dropped. She instantly started shaking her head, jaw clenched. "No. No, no way. I'm not gonna be a vampire!"

"Why _not_?" the other Danielle challenged. "You've been thinking about it, ever since Dean told you about me. It's intoxicating, the thought of power. Just think, you'll be strong enough to fight _angels. _You'll be able to protect Sam and Dean, for once!"

"No!" Danielle snapped. "I don't _want to_."

Pain shot through her back, and Danielle gasped as she was slammed against the wall. The other Danielle's arm was pressed against her throat, as cold and as hard as a bar of metal. The vampire's eyes glinted, and Danielle felt fear wrap it's icy tentacles around her heart, freezing her in place.

"You spineless, _pathetic_ bitch," she spat, the venom coating her words feeling like a slap to the face. "Look around you. Look! This is what happens when you're too weak. If you were a vampire, you'd have heard me from miles away. You would've been able to stop it!"

The vampire released her, grabbing her by her shoulder and throwing her down on the ground. Danielle grunted in pain, her whole body throbbing.

"_Listen to me. _I'm _telling _you the things I've already learned; I'm trying to help you not make the same mistakes."

The doppelganger grabbed onto her hair, yanking her head up. Danielle cried out, wrestling against her twin's unyielding grip.

"This is your future, Danielle," the vampire whispered into her ear. "You're going to end up alone. One day, Dean is going to wake up and realize you're more trouble than you're worth. They're going to realize just how much of a burden you are. And don't even get me started on Cas." She let out a bitter laugh, releasing her younger self.

Danielle fell back to the ground, using the bed to scrabble up to her feet. She whirled around, facing the vampire and preparing herself for a fight.

"Oh, trust me, I know _all about _that little crush you have on him," she said, her expression condescending.

"You liked him, too!" Danielle argued.

_She didn't even see it coming. _One second, she was standing there, and then her cheek exploded in pain. She was on her side, lying in a puddle of blood as her vision went white for a heartbeat. She groaned, rolling onto her stomach.

The vampire laughed, the sound grating and hollow. "God, if we weren't the same person, I would kill you right here and now. Honestly, Dan, this is just pathetic. _Grow a pair._"

Danielle was yanked to her feet, and she found herself facing her twin. The future version was a few inches taller, not just physically, but mentally as well. She held herself taller, shoulders back and chin stuck out. She was confident.

"How about I help you right now?" the other Danielle questioned, her eyes glinting in realization. She pulled her wrist up to her mouth, sinking her teeth into the skin. She didn't even wince, showing the wrist to Danielle.

"No," Danielle whispered, eyeing the bloody circle on the olive skin. "No, please," she begged, struggling, but the vampire was too strong. She slammed her wrist down on Danielle's mouth, and she let out a muffled scream, beating against her future self's chest, trying to get away. The wound bled into her mouth, and she could taste the rust on her tongue.

The future Danielle pulled her wrist away, and Danielle sobbed, feeling blood dribble from her chin.

The vampire stepped backwards, eyes hard as she took in what she'd done. "Better get used to it now. Soon, you won't be able to get enou-"

Danielle fell to her knees with a cry as the floor jerked out from underneath her. She caught herself, only managing to scuff up her wounded palms more. Gone was the blood-soaked carpet. It was replaced with dirt and the remnants of gravel.

"Danny?!"

Danielle glanced up as Dean leaned down, helping her to her feet. She let out a relieved huff, locking her arms around his neck, holding him as close as she could manage.

"Hey, hey, you okay?" he asked, alarmed.

She buried her face in his neck, overcome with relief. _He wasn't dead. _It was just another illusion, another one of Gabriel's tricks. Her whole body was shuddering, and it was all she could do not to break down_. _She met Sam's worried gaze over Dean's shoulder before stepping back.

"Nice of you to join the party." Danielle looked up, meeting Gabriel's sardonic gaze. They were in the warehouse she'd been in before she went back to the motel, and Gabriel was trapped in a fire.

"Is this real?" she questioned, trembling as she straightened up.

"I dunno… Is it?" he challenged, a malicious grin spreading across his face.

Danielle inhaled. "_Stop,_" she begged, too exhausted from her fight with herself to be mad.

"Don't listen to him," Sam stated, glaring at the archangel, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "This is real."

Gabriel smirked. "Aw, isn't that _adorable? _Your friends sticking up for you because you sure won't stick up for yourself. Or your family, for that matter. I mean, look at you! Cowering like the scared little mouse you are."

Danielle swallowed the lump in her throat, fighting back the wave of rage rising up in her. Blood pounded in her ears, and she stared at the ground, clenching her fists. _Don't give in to it, Danielle. Don't give him what he wants._

"Don't you _ever stop crying?"_

"I said _stop it!" _Danielle barked, glaring at him. For a second, she held his gaze, unwavering. For a second she believed she was strong, she could fight back. But then she looked away, letting out a shaky breath and stepping back.

"Ignore him."

Danielle glanced to her left as Castiel stepped up to her side, never taking his eyes off the archangel.

"Having any flashbacks, Danny?" Gabriel sneered, opening his arms. "An empty warehouse, me, you, fire…"

Danielle gritted her teeth, angling her head down to not let him see the anguish on her face. Her hair fell in front of her face, and that was what set her off. Her hair, the _one_ thing she'd really, actually liked about herself- it was gone. That hadn't been an illusion. He'd chopped off the hair that her dad had loved so much. She owed it to him – to all of them – to stand up. They were due an explanation.

"Come on, Danny, let it _out! _Throw a punch; I'll let you get one in for free. C'mon." He spread his arms out, angling his cheek and shutting his eyes. "Anytime, sweetheart."

Danielle stared at him, her jaw clenched. "You killed them," she accused, her voice barely constrained.

Dean looked back in surprise; her chest heaved, and she was staring at the archangel with a murderous stare. He didn't expect her to _actually _get angry.

Gabriel sighed, rolling his eyes. "Yes, but you're alive, so there's a bonus!"

"You were supposed to bring them back!" she cried, frustrated tears rising in her eyes. "You _promised_."

"I lied. Big deal; it's the new thing nowadays."

Nobody saw it coming. Danielle had crossed the distance between them in a second, pulling her arm back and slapping the angel – _hard – _across the face. His head snapped to the side, and she stood in front of him, the fire reflecting in her chocolate orbs.

"I'm not stupid, Gabriel," she hissed. "I see right through you. You're hurting. We aren't that different; neither of us can be with our families. You took my family away from me, but I don't hate you. You don't get that satisfaction. I _forgive_ you, Gabriel. I _pity_ you. My heart breaks for you, because you are sad and alone and have nothing better to do than go around and screw with people."

Gabriel stared at her, eyes wide. She could see the surprise, quickly followed by a flash of pain at her speech. His cocky little smirk fell, and he clenched his jaw, meeting her fiery gaze.

"Goodbye, Gabriel," she stated. "I'll be _praying_ for you."

And with that, Danielle spun around on her heel, stalking out of the room, leaving everyone shocked.

* * *

It was going to be a long drive home. Both of the brothers were exhausted and, while Sam had no problem with passing out in the back seat, Dean was reluctant to give the wheel over to Danielle. However, it only took a few hours before Dean finally gave in. He clambered into the back with Sam, leaving Danielle and Castiel in the front.

"You're not tired?" the angel asked.

Danielle just shook her head. Her mind was moving too fast; she knew she would lay down and just end up replaying the past day over and over in her head.

"Where did Gabriel take you after we went to Sam and Dean?"

Danielle was quiet. She didn't want to talk about it, not with anybody. It was too real, too much of a possibility. If that was her in the future… She was ashamed to confess the monster she going to become.

Castiel fell silent, realizing she wasn't going to answer. "There was blood on your mouth."

Danielle still didn't respond. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel, and the car, already going fifteen over the speed limit, started increasing speed.

_Was_ it all just an illusion? Did Gabriel bring her future self back into the past just to torment her? If that was what had happened then… Danielle could be turning into a vampire, right then. She didn't know what to look for. Was she supposed to die first or something? Did it happen over time? She hadn't noticed any sudden urge to drink blood, so that was good, right?

Danielle realized that she wasn't going to get any answers that way. No matter how long she mulled over it, no matter how long she stewed, she wasn't going to magically find out. She needed help.

"Castiel," she said.

The angel was disturbed by the solemnness of her tone. "Yes?"

"Could you tell if … someone was a vampire?" As her sentence continued, her voice seemed to give out, and she ended with just a whisper. She could feel Castiel's curious eyes on her face, and she refused to meet them.

"Were you fed blood?" he asked, and she didn't miss the worried tone.

She licked her lips, still able to taste the metallic tinge of blood. "Kind of. Can you tell if I'm…?"

Castiel stared at her for a moment, blue eyes wider than normal. "No, you're not," he finally admitted, and Danielle let out a sigh of relief, leaning back in the seat.

"Thank God," she muttered.

Castiel wanted to ask what had happened. He wanted Danielle to tell him everything; had Gabriel _really_ put her up against _vampires? _How had she gotten away? She wasn't exactly the best fighter, nor did she have any weapons, unless Gabriel had given her some.

Castiel's anger at his brother only increased. What could have happened to him? Gabriel, the mighty, noble archangel, swept away in the dark, twisted greed and vulnerability of humanity. What could have been so promising to make Gabriel turn against his own brothers?

Well, what could Castiel say? He'd done _exactly_ the same thing, for no nobler a cause. He'd turned his back on his family, given up everything for three humans. Would he become like his brother? As twisted and evil as the darker sides of humans?

No. There was still good here, on Earth. People like Danielle and Dean and Sam and Bobby. They laid out the future of humanity, modeled the fact that there were still some _good_ people, like the Lord had created them to be.

* * *

The boys had newfound respect for the cowardly ex-prophet. Her outburst at the archangel had been totally unsuspected, yet not unwanted. Castiel especially was surprised; he'd never thought she'd ever be able to stand up for herself. For others (like in the case of Jessie), maybe, but not for herself.

He'd been in her head; he knew she didn't have enough respect for herself to do that. Half the time she blamed everything on herself. She didn't believe she deserved to fight for herself; there wasn't anything admirable enough to fight for. She was a coward, but there were pieces of bravery scattered inside her.

But watching her now, it was hard to find the bravery.

Dean sat on the couch, arm exposed to her. He'd gotten a pretty bad gash – from what, she hadn't asked – and he wanted _her_ to stitch it up. She had the needle and the yarn in her hands, and she stared at the wound, turning a greenish hue.

"M-Maybe we should just wait one more minute," she stammered.

"Don't be a baby," Dean protested. "Hunter 101: you gotta learn to stitch up people."

"Didn't you have to do this for medical school?" Sam asked, standing in the doorway.

Danielle licked her lips, moving her knees closer as she readied herself. She braced her arm across his chest, and Dean pressed his lips together, staring at the ceiling, stone-faced.

Danielle froze, and Dean huffed in irritation. "If you can bitch-slap an archangel, you can handle this," he stated.

She flushed, her lips twitching up at the corners. "I didn't mean to."

"Hulk smash," Dean teased, and Danielle met his gaze. He was smiling, and Danielle felt her heart twist. Her future self had killed him. Without remorse, without a second thought.

Had that really been her? Or had that just been Gabriel, acting as herself? It was impossible to tell, and she couldn't ignore the fact that there was a 50/50 chance that she actually _was_ that monster. That there was a part of her so corrupted that could – and might just actually – bloom into _that_.

Dean's smile faded as Danielle went stone-faced. She turned her attention back to his wound, pushing the needle through the skin without warning. Dean inhaled through his nose, his arm tensing as Danielle's swift fingers pulled the needle back and forth, pulling the skin together.

By the time she got to the end of the cut, the random burst of strength disappeared. It was replaced with a queasy look, and she set the bloody needle down in a bowl. Dean laid, tight-lipped, steadfast expression refusing to show any kind of pain.

"The towel?" Danielle asked, and Bobby tossed her a wet one. A flash of pain shot through her arm as she reached up to catch the rag, but she ignored it. The worst she had was a few scratches and a black eye. Everything else was just sore. She would manage.

Danielle set to work at wiping the blood that had dripped down Dean's arm before wrapping gauze around the wound. When she finished, he stood up, and Sam replaced him. He only had a small cut on his cheek, which Danielle just dabbed with the towel. He got up, and everyone turned an expectant look towards the angel.

"No?" she demanded, waving the towel. Castiel just shook his head, and she shrugged, scrubbing mercilessly at her face. She ignored the stabs of pain that came everytime she touched her bruised lips and nose.

"So, you find God yet?" Bobby grunted, a hint of sarcasm shadowing his words as he glanced up at the angel.

"No," he answered with a downcast gaze.

"What about the Colt?" Sam asked.

"Nothing about that either."

Danielle pulled her head up, brow wrinkled. "You're looking for the Colt?"

"Yeah, Dan, where have you been? We've been looking for that thing since Bobby was in the hospital," Dean retorted.

"No one seems to know what Lilith did with it after Bela gave it to her," Castiel stated.

Danielle looked even more confused. "Bela didn't give Lilith the Colt."

Four shocked gazes whirled to face her, and she shriveled under the intense scrutiny. "What the hell are you talking about?" Sam demanded.

"Bela gave the Colt to a demon named Crowley," Danielle answered, uncomfortable with all the stares. "I thought you knew that."

"Danielle, why the hell didn't you tell us that two weeks ago?" Dean demanded.

"I didn't know you were looking for it!" she protested.

Dean just sighed, shaking his head and looking back at the angel. "Have you ever heard of him?"

"No, but I can find him," came the stoic response.

"Good, well the-"

Castiel disappeared before Dean could finish telling him to go. He sighed, shaking his head and turning back to the girl. "Well, princess, you gonna tell us what all Gabriel did to you?"

She turned pale, her lips pressing together in a thin line. She met his gaze, her eyes hard, refusing to show any kind of weakness.

"That bad, huh?" Dean mumbled, feeling his heart pang. He hated that self-righteous bastard even more for hurting Danielle. He seemed to have it out for the poor girl; first with her family, then whatever the hell he'd done to her while they were in T.V. land, and that's not even mentioning her hair.

"Your hair actually looks pretty good like that," Sam pointed out.

She scoffed, shaking her head. "Yeah, right," she muttered, staring down at her scuffed knees.

* * *

Two Days Later

Danielle came down the stairs, dressed in her sweatpants and a hoodie.

"Dan, where's your dress?" Dean demanded.

"That _thing_," – she spat out the word like it was venom – "comes up to, literally, _right here_!" She pointed just a few inches below her waist. "My _butt _is practically hanging out."

"What butt?" Bobby asked, making the boys snigger.

Danielle threw the wadded-up dress at the old man. "Why don't you wear it? You're pretty enough."

_"Ooh," _Sam and Dean called, like they were little kids.

Ellen and Jo – friends of the Winchesters – stood in the living room as well. "Finally," Ellen stated. "A girl with enough self respect not to walk around with her ass hanging out of her clothes."

She sent a pointed look to her daughter, who rolled her eyes. "It was _one_ dress, Mom."

"I have dresses, Dean," Danielle pointed out, crossing her arms.

"Yeah, believe me, _I_ _know_." He grimaced. "Just put that one on."

"It's vital to the mission," Castiel added from where he was standing at the other side of the room.

"I mean, why do I even have to look pretty? Can I not just walk in looking like myself? They're demons; won't they jump at the chance to get me?"

"You're not a prophet, anymore, Danny," Sam pointed out.

"Quit complainin' and put the damn dress on!" Bobby barked, shoving the dress back at her.

"Me_ow_," Danielle returned, rolling her eyes. Reluctantly, she went back up the stairs and put on the skimpy dress. When she came back down, Dean gave an appreciative whistle.

Her cheeks flushed cherry red, and her fingers twitched. She wanted to run back upstairs and bury herself under the bed. Maybe they'd find her corpse in a few hundred years, whenever this rotting house finally bit the dust. "Stop," she mumbled, all happiness drained from her persona.

"Quit it," Ellen barked, slapping Dean on the back of the head. The hit was unnecessary; he would've stopped anyways. Danielle was still in the dumps from whatever Gabriel had done to her, and, no matter how many times he'd tried to pull the truth out of her, she wouldn't spill. She was still bruised on her arms and her left eye was still a lavender color. And she hadn't smiled, not once, since.

Ellen pulled the girl into the living room, setting her up in front of the mirror and messing with her hair. Danielle felt even more self-conscious with her back to the boys; the dress was backless, for one, and she could feel their eyes on her.

The dress was black lace with a satin strip that wrapped around her waist, revealing her curvy hips. The dress dipped down to about halfway down her back, exposing the smooth tanned skin. Ellen pinned the brown waves up in a loose bun, and Danielle met her gaze in the mirror.

She looked dead. Her eyes were hollow, and her skin was paler than normal, but that could've just been the lighting. The bruises hadn't faded, and, if she looked hard enough, she almost believed she could see the blood from her nose staining her lips. She glanced away, wondering how long she would be in this rut.

"Shame that all this is for a couple of demons," Jo said. "You're really pretty."

Danielle's lips just flickered up in acknowledgement. "Why don't you just do it?" she asked, glancing over at the blonde. Jo was much prettier than Danielle, and she was much more experienced with demons.

"You need the practice," Sam said.

"What, I need practice seducing people?" she snapped. She shook her head, sighing and raising her chin. "Okay, okay. Sorry, I'm done."

"You sure?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised. "'Cause, I mean, it would always help if you told someone."

"Nope." She flashed him a tight-lipped smile. "I'll be fine."

She wasn't even sure what she was so depressed over. Gabriel had humiliated her, sure, not only in front of a fictional crowd, but in front of Cas too, but that wasn't_ that_ big of a deal. He killed Cas, okay, but not really. He was still in front of her, breathing, looking away whenever she glanced over at him. He cut off all of her hair which, in some ways, was a memory of her dad, but no problem. It'll grow back. He introduced her to her future self, but that could've just been another illusion. Sure, he probably read Dean's mind and figured out what she looked like, but all the things she said… It came from _his _mouth, after he read her mind and found out what bothered her most. He played her like a violin, and now she was curled up in the fetal position, still wondering if she was caught in another one of his illusions. She really was as weak as the future her said.

"Well, you get an A for trying," Jo said to Dean, who shrugged, smirking.

"I was actually thinking more along the lines of a C." His eyes dropped down below Danielle's face, and she turned away from him, resisting the urge to cringe.

But… No. _No. _She wasn't going to let some stupid, egotistical archangel that had killed her family pull her down with him. She wasn't going to let him get the best of her. She turned back to Dean, unable to believe what she was actually about to say, but saying it anyways: "Um, double D's, actually."

Dean's jaw dropped, and Sam and Bobby mirrored his shocked expression. Ellen and Jo barked loud laughs, slapping Danielle's back in appreciation. She let out an embarrassed chuckle, blushing scarlet. _See how easy that was?_

"Okay, you ready demon bait?" Dean asked after he'd recomposed himself.

She just shrugged, glancing over at Castiel, who looked confused. Probably at their whole boob conversation. Danielle chuckled in amusement, heading for the door.

Dean had a Cheshire-cat grin on his face, making Danielle apprehensive. He had his arms behind him, hiding something. "Your shoes, Cinderella," he stated, revealing the dangerously high heels.

Danielle's jaw dropped, and she stared at the shoes like they were weapons. "Dean, I can hardly walk in _flat shoes!"_

He and Sam couldn't stop laughing. Dean set the shoes on the ground, and Danielle eyed them distrustfully before bending over to pick them up. As soon as she bent over, Ellen and Jo – bless them – jumped forward, immediately straightening her up.

"You just almost flashed an angel," Jo stated, grinning.

Danielle glanced over her shoulder at Castiel, who had his head cocked slightly to the side and was staring at her like some kind of science experiment. As soon as she caught him staring, he looked away.

"I hate dresses," Danielle grumbled, using Jo as a support as she slipped her feet into the heels.

Jo stepped back, and Danielle wobbled. She stepped out to regain her balance, but the heel snapped to the side, and Danielle crumpled. Ellen managed to catch the flailing woman, helping straighten her up.

"Okay, whose idea was this?" Danielle demanded, narrowing her eyes at glaring at the Winchesters.

They both pointed to the other one, and Danielle fixed both of them with a murderous glare.

"I hope the demons put up a fight," she growled, meaning to strut out of the room, but really she just stumbled her way to the car.

* * *

**Kelword-Ann: Thank you! Glad you like it (: **


	14. Our Last Night

**Chapter 13: **

**Our Last Night**

_"Even in times of success, they constantly hear the threat of doom. Darkness, despair, and death are their destiny." – Job 15:21-22_

It was a _miracle _that Danielle hadn't broken her ankle. She had, however, snagged a heel in the cobblestone driveway, falling in the demon's arms like some damsel in distress.

"He put his hands on my hips," Danielle recalled, telling her story to Cas, Ellen, and Jo. She showed what the demon had done, running her hands from her ribcage down her hips. She had long-since ditched the dress, switching it out for a baggy pair of sweatpants and one of her dad's old t-shirts.

Even in the loose clothes, Castiel followed her hands. He was raptly paying attention, wondering how her hips, which had been so prominent before in the tight dress, could have disappeared so completely under the clothing.

She shuddered as a chill ran down her spine. "And it was, like, a fifty-year-old man. It was _so _gross."

Jo laughed at the girl, pushing a shot towards her. "If anyone needs a drink, it's you. Getting groped by an old man." She shook her head in sympathy, blonde curls bouncing.

"Oh, I don't drink," Danielle answered. She liked the two girls, especially Jo. She couldn't remember the last time she'd even spoken to a girl. She was always around the boys, and she never got to go out and meet new people.

"You on the cleanse?" Ellen asked, eyes narrowed in – not unkind – scrutiny.

"Oh, no!" Danielle retorted, flipping her curls behind her shoulder. "I've had like, three sips of alcohol in my whole life."

"So, what, someone you know messed up their life?" Jo inquired, cocking an eyebrow. She was curious now.

"She doesn't consume alcohol for religious reasons," Castiel stated from where he sat beside her.

The two women turned shocked gazes on Danielle, who nodded. "Christians aren't supposed to get drunk."

Jo let out a shrill, disbelieving laugh. "You believe in all that?"

"Yes," Danielle answered, holding her chin up.

"How can you be a hunter and believe in _God?_" Jo demanded.

Danielle snorted. "I am so not a hunter. I used to be a prophet, but I made the angels mad and they took away my prophet-ness. Now I pretty much just sit around and do research." She gave a brave nod, a wide smile flitting across her face, and, for the first time, Castiel knew her smile was hollow. He tilted his head, staring at her. He'd seen her smile sadly, but he'd never seen her give a fake smile. The bitter tone, the fake smile… Did she feel useless?

"Wow," Jo stated, not sure how to respond to that.

"Bobby's trying to train me into a hunter, but, it's Bobby, so ya know." The three girls shared a smile, glancing over their shoulders into the living room.

Dean did a double take when he saw the girls staring at them. He would've winked but winking at Ellen was like winking at his mom. So he just furrowed his brow. Sam and Bobby caught him staring, and they turned to meet the girls' gazes. Paranoia became quickly clear on their faces.

Castiel's head appeared as he leaned over Danielle, glancing back and forth between the two groups. "What are we looking at?" he questioned seriously in a voice that the boys couldn't hear.

The girls started laughing, sitting back into their normal seats.

"Man, it's like high school all over again," Dean mumbled.

"What exactly did you do to make the angels hate you?" Jo asked, glancing over at Castiel, who was sitting stiffly in his chair.

"She wouldn't fall asleep," Castiel answered matter-of-factly.

"To have a vision," Danielle elaborated. "They wanted me to dream about the apocalypse, and I wasn't havin' it."

Castiel leaned forward, fixing her with his serious stare. "But you did have it."

Danielle and Jo barked a laugh, the former clapping her hands together and leaning her head back. Ellen let out a few deep chuckles, and the angel just looked at the girls in confusion.

"Hey, instead of giggling like little girls you wanna come help actually _do_ something?" Dean called irritably from the living room.

Danielle peeked her head around the wall. "Naw, we'll pass."

Dean rose to his feet, stalking over to the kitchen. "Fine, then at least give our angel back."

"We're using him right now!" Danielle protested.

"Yeah, we're getting him drunk," Jo added, grinning.

Dean ran his eyes over the row of empty shot glasses sitting in front of Castiel and the bottle of whiskey resting on the table. "C'mon, man. You got work to do."

Castiel made a move to get up, but Danielle grabbed his arm, keeping him in place. "No, stay with us!"

"They're laughing at you, dude!" Dean pointed out.

Castiel looked around, bewildered. He had no idea what to think.

Danielle set her warm eyes on him, the corners of her eyes wrinkled up in amusement. "We're laughing _with_ you. Cas, who are you gonna listen to: the sweet, innocent Christian girl, or the grouchy hunter who made you fall from Heaven?"

Castiel sat back, setting his hands in his lap and making no move to get up. Danielle turned her triumphant grin on Dean.

"Really, man?" he demanded.

"She makes a valid point," the angel stated.

Dean waved a hand at the angel, stalking back over to his desk. They stayed up late that night, talking and joking around and – for everyone but Danielle – drinking. Tomorrow would be their last day before heading up to Catharage to hunt the devil.

Danielle tried not to think about that; every time she so much as considered it, her heart would start pounding.

Danielle had offered her usual bed to Ellen and Jo, but Ellen protested, saying "the city girl" should have the bed. Danielle tried to persuade her, but she dug her heels in. Ellen laid on a dusty mattress on the other side of the room, and Jo and Danielle slept in the bed.

"How'd you get sucked in?" Jo asked. "I mean, I know you're a prophet, but when your powers stopped, why didn't you just go home?"

Danielle swallowed the lump that suddenly rose in her throat, fixing her gaze on the dark ceiling. "Demons killed my family. And I did leave, but then I saw myself in a prophecy with Sam and Dean, and I just kind of … stayed."

"But you don't belong," Jo pointed out. "No offense or anything, but you just don't seem like the hunter type."

Danielle shrugged. "A. I don't have a home to go back to; the angels burned it to the ground, and b. I wouldn't even be able to go back, knowing that at any time a demon or a ghost or something could kill me. And, plus, I can help people now." A slow smile came across her face, only noticeable by the faint glow of her teeth. "I saved a little boy."

Jo was quiet for a moment before stating, "I'm sorry about your family."

"It's not your fault," Danielle whispered. "I just wish I tried harder."

"My dad's dead too, so I know how you feel."

"I'm sorry," Danielle muttered.

"I mean, if you knew the things we'd seen, you wouldn't believe in God," Jo said with a quiet snort. "All the suffering and the pain."

"But doesn't that push you closer to Him? To hope for something good; to have hope that good things might actually happen?"

Jo just shook her head, chuckling softly. "You sound like a dreamy teenager talking about her first love." Danielle giggled a little, and Jo turned an interested eye to the girl. "What happened with Gabriel?"

Danielle's smile faded, and she stared up at the ceiling. "Nothing," she whispered, her voice sounding hollow even to herself.

"Come on, you can tell me. Girl to girl."

Danielle chewed on her lip, feeling the urge to spill her guts. It was late at night, and everyone knew that there was something about those hours right after midnight, when it was quiet and the moon was your only company that made you want to talk. And Danielle wanted to; she was tired of keeping it all bottled in herself. Plus, she was talking to a _girl, _who, like it or not, would understand better than the brothers.

"What, you want me to tell you about where he killed Cas in front of me? Or, how- how he cut my hair?" Danielle gave a disdainful sniff, shaking her head and glaring up at the ceiling. "Or the part where he put me in front of a crowd in a skimpy black dress to play the piano. Or, here's the best one, where Gabriel took the future me and killed everyone – Dean, Bobby, Sam, Cas – and then flaunted it."

"Wait, wait," Jo interrupted, brow furrowed in confusion. "Future you? What do you mean?"

"This other angel zapped Dean to the future and, apparantely, I was this really mean, heartless vampire," Danielle said, rolling her eyes. "And Gabriel made me think I was out of his fantasy world, and when I went back to the hotel room, they were all dead. And there future me was, blood on my teeth, dressed in … _leather._"

"But none of that was real," Jo reminded. "It was just an illusion."

"It felt real," Danielle whispered, frowning up at the ceiling. "Especially the part where I fed myself blood," she grumbled.

Jo tensed, eyes widening. "Wait, are you a …?"

"Vampire? No," Danielle sighed, folding her arms over her stomach. "Cas checked. That was just an illusion too."

They were quiet for a while, letting the bad feelings slowly wash away. She was quiet for so long that Danielle had thought she'd fallen asleep before she asked: "So, what's up with you and Dean?"

Danielle barked a laugh, clapping a hand over her mouth in an attempt to quiet herself. "Absolutely nothing. It's not like that," she promised.

"Are you sure?" Jo questioned, cocking her eyebrows. "He wouldn't give up about you in that dress."

"He was just teasing," Danielle retorted. "He's my best friend."

"So you're with Sam then?" Jo prompted.

Danielle shook her head, grinning. "Nope."

Jo tilted her head up, a knowing gleam in her brown eyes. "It's Castiel, then?"

"He's an angel," Danielle returned, like that was an appropriate answer. Which, if you knew what an angel was like, then you knew it was a very valid statement. Angels had troubles feeling emotions period, let alone love.

"Oh, come on, so you don't feel anything for him? You know he's attractive. And he's definitely got the mysterious thing going."

Danielle snorted, rolling her eyes. "Now who's the dreamy teenager?"

"He's got a stare out of a romance novel," Jo pointed out.

Danielle laughed, unable to deny that truth. "You noticed that too?" The two chuckled before becoming quiet.

It wasn't long before Jo's breathing slowed down and leveled out, leaving Danielle as the only one awake. She stared at the ceiling, pushing back all thoughts of the devil. She could think about it tomorrow night, which could possibly their last night.

Instead, she thought about Castiel's "romance novel" stare. It _was_ incredibly true, though. Those blue suckers could see straight into your heart, soul, and mind. And blue eyes _always_ looked gorgeous when paired with dark hair, especially Castiel's tousled black locks.

Danielle closed her eyes, sinking into a dream filled with blood, future Danielle, and beautiful blue eyes.

* * *

The dip in the mattress as Jo rolled out of bed was what woke Danielle up. She kept her eyes closed, groggily listening as Jo and Ellen got ready for the day and tiptoed down the stairs in an attempt, she was sure, to not wake her up.

Danielle laid there, creeping towards consciousness. She clung to sleep, remembering that today might be their last day alive. Her heart gave a sporadic kick in her chest, and she shoved the thought out of her mind. She would _not_ think about that. Not now, not yet.

She finally crawled out of bed, after hearing everyone's voices float up from downstairs. She could smell something cooking and stumbled down the stairs, still wearing her pajamas. She shuffled into the room, blinking and scowling in the bright light.

"Rise and shine, princess," Dean greeted around a biscuit he was holding in his mouth, walking past her with two plates full of food.

Danielle glanced around, realizing that everyone was fully dressed and wide-awake except for her. She didn't really care, instead, plopping down on the rug. She grabbed a throw pillow off the cough, resting her head on it and lying on her stomach.

Sam stepped into the room, hands full with plates loaded dangerously high. He paused, glancing at Danielle, who seemed to have passed out on the floor, but eventually joined his brother on the couch. Bobby ate from his wheelchair, Ellen sat at the desk, Cas sat in the armchair (without any food), and Jo, Dean, and Sam dominated the couch.

"You not hungry, hon?" Ellen called from across the room, staring down at the unmoving woman on the ground.

Danielle didn't realize Ellen was talking to her, so Jo prodded her side with her biker boot. Danielle had a spasm, jerking her head up. Her hair surrounded her head like an afro, and Sam and Dean couldn't help but start laughing at her.

"Sorry," Danielle apologized. "No ma'am, I don't ever eat breakfast."

"That's because she doesn't _wake up_ until it's lunch," Dean pointed out.

"That's cause I'm not an old man and wake up at the crack of dawn!" Danielle argued, her voice muffled by the pillow.

"Watch it!" Bobby warned.

Danielle picked up her face, shooting him a brilliant smile even despite her grogginess. Feeling more awake, she sat up, crossing her legs Indian-style. "So, the devil's in Missouri?" Nods and quiet 'yeps' went around the room. "You think we can swing by Six Flags after?" she asked, grinning.

Everyone either smiled or chuckled at the girl's antics, whereas Castiel could only stare. There it was again; a flash of her ever-rare courage. In the face of death, she was smiling and making jokes, while Castiel was distracted by the tight knot of fear in his stomach.

"So, our last day," Sam stated, and they all stared off in the distance, lost in their thoughts. "What do we do?"

"Eat," Danielle suggested simply, shrugging.

"Sleep," Jo added.

"Read," Sam said.

Dean glanced around at all of them, snorting. "What a bunch of nerds."

"Actually," Danielle said, standing up. "I want to go do some more target stuff." She glanced at Bobby.

"I'll do it with you," Dean offered, standing up. "Jo, wanna come?"

She jumped up, and Danielle darted up the stairs, changing into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt over a long-sleeve. She clapped down the stairs in her traditional flip-flops, throwing her messy hair up into a ponytail.

Dean, Jo, and Cas all waited at the front door. Danielle glanced at the latter, and Dean threw her a quick explanation: "He wanted to come too." They tromped out to the back of the junkyard, where Bobby had set up a shooting range.

Dean handed Danielle a gun, and she took it, standing ten yards away. She lined up her sights, squeezed one eye shut and pulled the trigger. Her bullet hit the white space next to the person's ear.

"Dan, you can't hit from ten yards?" Dean demanded.

"Give me a second!" she protested, meeting his harsh gaze, hers as sharp. Castiel blinked in surprise before she smiled, melting away the mean look in her eyes. She raised the gun again, and Castiel watched closely as the gentle girl learned to kill.

She did decent enough – to Dean, it was "just plain horrible" – but Jo stood up for the "city girl". Dean and Jo soon started flirting, and Danielle smiled watching them, glancing down at her feet. If she died tomorrow, she would die a virgin, in every sense of the word. No sex, no boyfriend, not even a kiss. She'd die, twenty-two years old and without having been kissed.

Castiel stepped up to her side, trench coat swishing around his legs. Danielle instantly rolled her lip under her teeth, thinking about her dream of him. Nothing bad had happened in it – mostly just a lot of stares – but there was that overall hint of romance, and it made her anxious.

"They're making me uncomfortable," he stated, his voice deep and melodic.

Melodic?

"Um, yeah," Danielle returned, still reeling from her inner vocabulary. "I think it's actually kind of cute. I'm pretty sure she likes him," she added in a lower voice. "Don't tell Dean."

"I won't," Castiel answered, furrowing his brow and watching the two. "How can you tell?"

"Well, she's smiling. A lot. And she's blushing. And look how close they're standing. You don't stand that close to someone unless you like them," she taught, noticing how Castiel's shoulder brushed against hers when she turned.

"So do you … 'like' Dean?" Castiel questioned.

"What? No."

"You do the same thing with Dean. And Sam. And me," he added with a frown.

Danielle let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Well that's just how I am."

They were quiet for a moment, watching Jo knock down all of Dean's advances.

"So, why don't we just kill Lucifer with the angel blade?" Danielle asked.

"Honestly, I don't know if it would work or not," Castiel answered. "One most certainly would not be able to get close enough to find out. Lucifer is more powerful than your wildest dreams."

_Dreams. _Danielle swallowed, internally cursing Jo for putting the thought even in her head. She never really noticed just how handsome Castiel was, with his strong jaw and shadow of a beard. Even with his stern expression he was more attractive than most men.

Castiel caught her curiously staring at her. He glanced down to meet her gaze, but she was looking at Dean and Jo again. He could only see the outline of her face, so he missed the blush reddening her rosy cheeks. He didn't miss, however, how strangely long and thick her eyelashes were. They fanned from her lid, creating a thick dark curtain that brushed against her sculpted cheekbones when she looked down.

"So we're gonna die tomorrow?" she split the silence, her voice solemn. She turned her large, dark eyes on him. The previously mentioned lashes splayed around her eyes, curling up and around.

"Most likely, yes," Castiel answered.

She looked down, turning back to watch Dean and Jo. Danielle's heart panged as she watched Dean's smile split across his face. Dean was such a good guy, and she wanted more than anything for him to get a chance to live. If any of them deserved it, it was him. Tears rose in her eyes at the thought of his cold still body.

And Sam, who'll never get a chance to redeem himself. She'd already forgiven him, and she had the sneaky suspicion that Dean did as well, but there were still so many people upset with him. He'd go down in history as not only the guy who let out Lucifer, but the guy who _was _Lucifer. When someone thought of the devil, they'd think of Sam.

And Ellen and Jo, the two ladies she'd met just yesterday but already thought of as really good people. Jo was the same age as her, providing Danielle with a female friend, which she didn't know she'd missed having until that moment. Ellen was firm and strict and kept the boys in line whenever they acted up.

And Bobby, the sweet gruff old man who'd lost everything: his wife, his friends, his legs, and still was fighting. He'd take on the devil, paralyzed from the waist down, because he was that brave. Or suicidal.

And, of course, there was Castiel. Danielle glanced up at the angel. For the longest time, she'd been confused about him. She'd wanted so badly to trust him, but with Dean warning her not to get attached. But he'd given up heaven, everything he ever knew, for three people he'd known for a year.

Castiel caught her staring again, and this time she didn't look away.

"I don't know if anyone of us have told you … But thank you for falling. You're not a bad guy, Cas."

Castiel didn't know quite what to say, instead just watching as she offered him a small smile and turn away. Was she saying goodbye?

"Mickey and Minnie, you ready?" Dean called, waving a hand to beckon them back towards the house.

"Mickey and Minnie?" Danielle heard Jo question. Dean leaned close to her as they walked, arms almost interlocked as he explained the reason he gave them couple names.

Jo glanced over her shoulder, eyes wide in shock. Danielle just shrugged, rolling her eyes as her and Cas followed. Jo giggled, turning back to talk to Dean.

Danielle waited until they made it to the door before asking Dean to wait outside with her. Jo and the angel went inside, and Dean turned to her. "Yeah, what's up?"

He was shocked to see Danielle look up at him, tears shining in her eyes. She swallowed, her voice trembling as she spoke. She tried to say something, but her voice failed her, and she pressed her lips together, looking down.

"Are you okay?" he demanded, stepping closer.

"Sorry, I'm just scared," she answered with a humorless chuckle. She reached up, wiping away the stray tears that had fell down her cheeks. She shoved her hands in her jacket pocket and fidgeted for a moment, having troubles saying what was on her mind.

"Spit it out, Dan," Dean ordered, and Danielle smiled again.

"I know we both hate this mushy-gushy stuff, but if we're gonna die tomorrow-"

Dean shook his head, holding up a hand. "Don't you start."

"Listen to me!" she protested, and Dean huffed, dropping his hand. "Thank you for helping me. With everything. Don't die tomorrow, okay?" She ended with a breathless chuckle, her lips splitting into a wide grin despite the tears glassing over her eyes.

"I don't plan on it," Dean returned, staring down at the little brunette that he'd grown so close to over the past two years. If she were to die tomorrow… A lump grew in his throat at the thought, and he held out his arms. "C'mere."

She launched forwards, wrapping her arms around his middle and burying her face in his collarbone. He pressed his head against the side of hers, kissing her hair as she pulled back.

"I love ya man," she said in a joking voice, landing a light punch on his shoulder.

Dean chuckled, shoving her head down. She ducked away, grinning as they headed back inside.

* * *

"Everybody, get in here!" Bobby called from the living room. "Time for the lineup; usual suspects in the corner."

They trickled into the living room as Bobby fidgeted with the camera, setting it so it would be just right.

"Oh, come on Bobby, nobody wants their picture taken," Ellen protested.

"Hear, hear," Dean mumbled.

"I think it's a sweet idea," Danielle stated, smiling at Sam's grimace.

"Call me sweet again, an' you'll be the one in the wheelchair," Bobby warned. "I'm gonna need somethin' to remember your sorry asses by."

He rolled back, and they all grouped together, Castiel and Jo on the ends, Sam and Dean in the middle, Danielle in front of Castiel and next to Ellen and Bobby.

"Always good to have an optimist around," Ellen joked.

"Bobby's right," came Castiel's grim voice as Danielle shot the camera her trademark grin. "Tomorrow we hunt the devil. This is our last night on earth."

Somehow, it just seemed _so much worse _coming from Castiel. He was their angel – to some, he was practically their version of God – invincible and strong, and even he knew they wouldn't make it out alive.

Their faces fell, and Danielle's smile drooped a little at the corners, but the flash still went off, and the picture was still saved, no matter how horrible it was.

Nobody had enough appetite for dinner, so they all settled down in their respective spots in an attempt to get some sleep. Danielle didn't even try; she just went straight outside. She walked through the junkyard, unnerved by the darkness. It was a full moon, at least, so paired with the lights from the house, she could see a little.

She found a dilapidated truck near the house and laid down in the bed. She folded her arms under her head and just stared up at the stars. The cool night air had a nip to it, occasionally stirring her dark hair around.

"What you said earlier-"

Danielle inhaled, snapping her head up at the deep voice and spotting Castiel standing at the end of the truck bed. She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face and propping herself up against the back of the car.

"You were saying goodbye." It wasn't a question, but it sounded like he wanted conformation.

Danielle nodded. "Yeah. Might as well get those out of the way while I still can."

Castiel bobbed his head, looking down for a second before meeting her eyes with his piercing gaze. "Is it customary to tell one what you think of them before they die?"

Danielle let a faint smile flit across her lips, and she shrugged. "You can if you want. Some people like it, others don't."

Castiel nodded. "You are a coward."

Danielle snorted. "Geez, Cas, you're s'posed to say good things."

He gave her a pointed look, as if to say she interrupted him as he plowed on: "But I believe that sometimes … you can be brave, like with Gabriel."

"What, losing my temper and slapping an angel when he couldn't retaliate?" she muttered, snorting humorlessly and looking at the trees in the far distance. "_Very _courageous."

"You're not running," Castiel pointed out.

"What would I be running to?" Danielle retorted, shaking her head in an attempt to end the conversation. "I don't know."

They were quiet for a second before Danielle questioned: "How does one look for God?"

"With difficulty," Castiel stated. Danielle scooted to the end of the bed, letting her feet swing off the edge. She patted the spot next to her, and he awkwardly clambered up, mimicking her posture. "I only have rumors and legends to follow, some dating back centuries."

"So, you're hundreds of years behind?" Danielle asked, staring at the fringe of silver moonlight haloing his tousled hair.

"Practically." He sighed, glancing down at his hands resting in his lap. "It's all very tiring," he admitted.

Danielle blinked in surprise; Castiel rarely talked to her period, let alone confide in her. Danielle nodded. "I would imagine. I mean, wouldn't God know you were looking for him? And if He wanted to be found, He'd make himself known."

"Maybe He cut us all off," Castiel suggested. "To have some peace."

Danielle stared down at her feet, wiggling her toes. "He's God; He shouldn't need peace."

Castiel didn't answer, but Danielle knew he agreed with her.

"I apologize for striking you," he stated.

Danielle knew exactly what he was talking about. She _did_ replay the whole Gabriel thing over and over again in her head, after all. "It's fine. 'S not your fault."

"What was so upsetting to you when Gabriel made you believe I had died?" he questioned. It had been weighing on his thoughts, and he couldn't help but think Danielle had somehow grown some unnatural attachment, despite the fact that they were friends.

"You _died, _Cas," she said, fixing him with a puzzled, if not amused, stare. "And he made it so that you couldn't see me or feel me, so I just watched while you died. And you kept calling my name and asking for help." Saying it out loud, with him right beside her, somehow made it seem better than before. It wasn't as scary to think about.

"And what kinda question _is_ that?" she asked, eyebrows furrowed. "Dude, I would cry if a _mouse_ died in front of me. Let alone a friend."

"We're friends?" he questioned.

Danielle smiled a little, elbowing his side. "Yeah." They were quiet for a minute, both reflecting on the conversation before Danielle interrupted their thoughts, changing the subject. "So what do you normally do when everyone else is sleeping?"

"Sit quietly," Castiel answered.

Danielle smiled, her teeth reflecting the bright moonlight. She exhaled, falling back so suddenly that Castiel started in surprise.

"Now's when I miss my prophet-ness," Danielle stated, staring up at the stars scattered across the dark sky.

"Your prophet abilities would no doubt come in handy," Castiel agreed.

"Hey, it's halfway your fault I got them taken away!" she protested, bumping his leg with hers. She shot him a smile to show she wasn't seriously angry.

"Cartharage sounds like carnage," Danielle pointed out, her smile fading away.

Castiel stared at her, the significance of her words not missing him.

"Our last night on earth," she whispered seriously, her breath pooling out of her lips in a ghostly fog.

"Our last night on earth," the angel solemnly agreed.

* * *

**Wow, it's about time Danielle got a girl friend to gossip with ... or do anything with. There was a lot more Danny/Cas stuff in this chapter, hope y'all enjoyed!**

**((My favorite part was Castiel's goodbye omg that angel. I just can't even deal with him anymore.))**

**Guest: I'm glad you like it so far; thanks for the review! (:**

**imposter17: I hope this had enough Cas and Danny interaction (; haha thanks for reviewing!**

**chloeiaynehart: I have thought about that, I just was never sure... Plus with all the angst and what not it's hard to get around to it (; Haha! What do you think; you'd like to see something between the two? Thank you for reviewing, and thank you so much for leaving a suggestion! If you have anymore, please let me know! (:**


	15. Liars Prosper

**Chapter 14:**

**Liars Prosper**

_"But as he considered these things, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream…" – Matthew 1:20_

* * *

They pulled their car to the curb, Danielle clambering out of the back. Jo came around and rapped her knuckles on Cas's window. "Ever hear of a door handle?"

"Of course I have," he answered, appearing right in front of her.

Danielle came around to their little group, flipping her braid behind her back. The rain fell down in a fine drizzle, just enough to make Danielle's baby hairs curl up into ringlets. She was all too aware of the gun tucked in her waistband, the weight offering little comfort.

"Reapers," Castiel announced.

"Reaper_s_?" Ellen repeated. "As in, more than one?"

"Those are the death things, right? The ones that come get you before you die?" Danielle clarified.

Jo nodded as Castiel answered Ellen's question: "Yes. They only gather like this in times of major catastrophe; Chicago fire, San Francisco quake..."

Danielle swept her gaze around the empty street, feeling fear settle in her gut. It was undeniably creepy, and she glanced behind her just to make sure one wasn't creeping up on her.

"Excuse me, I have to find out why they're here."

He started across the street, and Danielle chased after him. "Wait, Cas!" she called, gaining his attention. "We shouldn't split up."

"I'll be fine; stay with Ellen and Jo."

Danielle chewed on her lip, not sure that was the best idea. "You sure?"

He nodded, turning away and continuing on his path.

"Be careful!" she called, jogging back to the women.

"As should you," came the solemn response before something caught his eye, and he disappeared.

"Worried?" Jo teased.

"Oh, shut up," Danielle retorted, hitting her arm. They started down the street, finding no sign of life anywhere. It was like the whole town had up and vanished.

Sam and Dean pulled up in the Impala, reporting that they'd had similar results.

Dean clambered out of the car, cocking his shotgun. He spotted Danielle's scowl. "What, the rain messing up your hair, princess?" he teased.

Danielle frowned, shaking her head. "This isn't what I was expecting."

"What were you expecting?" Sam asked.

"Hellfire. And demons. So where do we look now?"

"Well, if you were the devil, where would you be?" Dean joked.

Danielle rolled her eyes, finally letting Dean coax a smile out of her. They started down the road, everyone (except Danielle) clutching their shotguns.

"I think this is a trap," Danielle said, making everyone snap their gazes to her. It was clear they wanted an explanation, so she continued: "If the devil is here, then wouldn't he have demons here to protect him?"

"He's the devil, Danny," Sam said. "I doubt he needs protection."

Danielle chewed her lip, and everyone felt a little more uneasy as they continued.

"Where's Cas?" Dean finally noticed, turning to glance at them.

"He took off, said he saw some reapers," Ellen answered.

"Where?" he questioned, brow furrowed in thought.

"Well, kind of ... everywhere," Jo replied.

"Well this is just great," Dean growled. "We've been in town twenty minutes, and we already lost the angel up our sleeve."

"You think ... Lucifer got him?" Sam questioned.

"I don't know what else to think."

"Idiot should've let me come with him," Danielle muttered, kicking a missing flyer that had floated down in front of her foot.

"And if the devil showed up? Dan, you'd die of fear," Dean pointed out.

"Like a rabbit," Jo added.

Danielle rolled her eyes. "Just call me Bugs."

"Well there you are!"

The unusually chipper voice made all of them start and whirl around. Danielle pulled her handgun out of her waistband, clicking the safety off. She stared at the demon with wide eyes, recognizing her from the other night.

"Meg," Sam barked.

"Shouldn't have come here, boys," Meg stated, a confident grin spreading across her face. The last time Danielle had seen her, she'd fled when faced with both of the Winchesters. Now she was openly facing both of them, with two more hunters to boot. Danielle started glancing around at the empty buildings, trying to see if she could spot the demons that had to be hiding somewhere.

"I could say the same thing," Dean stated, vengeance clear in his eyes as he stalked forwards, pistol aimed between her eyes.

"Oh, I didn't come here alone, Dean-O," she chirped.

Something dripped in the puddle next to her, and the air was full of menacing growls and snarls. Danielle tensed up, throwing fearful glances and trying to pinpoint exactly how many were there.

Dean stiffened, the barrel of his gun dipping down just a little. "Hellhounds," he muttered.

"Yeah. Your _favorite_," she added with enthusiasm.

Danielle was all too aware of Dean's proximity to the nearest Hellhound; if that thing were to pounce, he wouldn't have enough time to get away. Danielle looked around desperately, trying to find a way out.

"My father wants to see you. Now, you can make this easy, or you can make it really, really hard."

A low growl cut through the air next to her, and her heart stopped beating. She looked to the space at her left, watching a trash can slide to the side as - presumably - a hound sat eagerly on the sidewalk, muscles tensed. It wasn't but fifteen, twenty feet away.

"When have we ever been known to make anything easy?" Dean demanded.

Danielle turned around, frantic now as she tried to find a way out. They needed to board themselves up, get away from the dogs. Her eyes landed on a little convenience store right next to them, the door slightly ajar.

Sam met her gaze, eyes reflecting her panic. She inclined her head towards the store, and he followed her gaze before nodding in understanding. He tapped Ellen, who tapped Jo, and the four of them started inching backwards.

A loud gunshot cracked through the air as the air next to Meg suddenly let out a gush of blood.

Danielle faltered, the shot distracting her for half a second while everyone else took off for the store.

A deafening bark was all Danielle had as a warning. She whirled around before feeling something slam straight into her. She held up her arm in defense, watching as holes suddenly appeared in her skin. She shrieked - more from surprise than pain - and shoved the gun up. She could feel the chest of the hound pressing against the barrel. Its putrid breath pooled onto her face, and it let out a magnificent growl as it gnawed away at her arm.

Danielle squeezed the trigger, flinching as warm blood spattered across her face. She squeezed again, the loud sound accompanied by a whine as the hound backed away.

Danielle scrambled up to her feet, feeling a pair of strong arms help her. She shot again, and the hound fell backwards, knocking into a car and making the vehicle slide.

"C'mon!" Sam shouted, grabbing her above the elbow and sprinting back towards the store. She lost her balance, slipping on some form of liquid and nearly knocking over a stand. She glanced down at the ground, recognizing the crimson substance.

For a second, she was terrified that it might be hers. But she followed the trail until her eyes landed on Jo, who Dean was setting down on the floor. Her shirt was doused in blood, her hand clamped over her side.

As Sam and Dean fortified the building with salt lines and chains, Danielle ran around the store, collecting as many medical supplies as she could find. Her hands were shaking so bad she could hardly get a grip on anything, and she kept knocking things off the shelves. Her heart raced in her chest, and she avoided looking at her arm, only noticing the blood covering her skin.

She was thankful that the adrenaline kept the pain down to a sharp sting, like getting germ-ex in a paper cut. She held the supplies loosely in her arms, sliding to her knees next to Jo and letting the items clatter to the ground.

"Uh, her-here's gauze, and some duck tape, and Ace bandages," Danielle explained, pushing the objects over to Ellen. "I also got some peroxide, and Advil and whiskey to ease the pain."

"Thank you," Ellen stated, immediately setting to work.

"And, u-uh, here's a blanket. For th-the shock," she stammered, picking up the dog blanket she'd found next to the dog treats.

"I-I think you need it m-more than me," Jo mumbled, a small smile flicking across her face. She let out a breathy laugh before falling into a coughing fit.

Blood dribbled down the side of her mouth, and Danielle reached up and wiped it away. She caught sight of the gaping hole in Jo's side, her face draining of color. She hadn't realized it was that bad.

Her eyes snapped up to Jo, the realization that she wouldn't survive without hospital care hitting her.

"Pretty nasty, huh?" Jo muttered, smirking.

"Now, you shut up JoAnna Beth," Ellen ordered. She turned to look at Danielle, fear shining in the older woman's eyes. "Why don't you get your arm patched up?"

Danielle just numbly nodded, rising to her feet and going to where Sam and Dean were huddled near a radio. They looked up when they saw her, eyes snapping to her arm.

Danielle raised it up a little, wincing at the pain that shot through her arm. "Will you help?" she asked, her fingers tightly clenching a wad of gauze she'd grabbed.

"Yeah," Sam answered, stepping up to her and holding out his hand.

Danielle tried to let go, but her fingers were locked in place. "I- I can't, s-sorry," she stammered.

Sam shared an alarmed glance with Dean, taking her fingers and carefully prying them off.

"I- I think I'm going into s-shock," she explained, angling towards Sam.

She finally risked a glance towards her arm, feeling her insides churn. There were long gashes and rips and holes covering her forearm, and blood was dripping onto the floor. Sam gently took her arm, slowly wrapping the gauze tightly around the wound.

She winced, looking at the ground. "It mig-ht've nicked a vein," she stated.

"How's Jo looking?" Dean asked beside her.

Danielle just shook her head, avoiding Dean's gaze. "S- She..."

"Dammit," Dean whispered, rubbing a hand over his face.

"W-What do we do now?" Danielle asked, looking expectantly up at Dean. The Hellhounds' growls were clear as day, as well as the rattling of the chains and thumps as they threw themselves at the walls.

"We ... " Dean trailed off, his voice hoarse as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Uh, we fix this radio and call Bobby. Maybe he has some news for us."

Danielle nodded, hissing as Sam tightened the bandage. "Sorry," he apologized, tying the bandage in place.

The color drained from her face; she was starting to feel the pain. The dull stinging was morphing into an aching, and she let the arm fall lifelessly to her side.

"Dan, see if you can find something to use to carry Jo out of here," Dean ordered.

Danielle gave a nod, her eyes slightly glazed before she turned and numbly walked away.

She pulled out the bottom of a dog cage, accidentally letting it slip through her fingers and clatter to the ground. She jumped, only using one arm to grab some leashes.

"Can we be realistic for a second, guys?" came Jo's trembling voice. "I'm not goin' anywhere. My guts are being held in by an Ace bandage. We've got everything we need. Propane, iron nails, salt."

Dean's face turned ashen as he realized what she was saying. Danielle and Sam, however, were confused. "For what?" the latter asked.

"A bomb," Jo answered. "We'll build a bomb, let them in, and I'll blast those sons of bitches to Hell."

"JoAnna Beth-" Ellen started, but Jo stopped her.

"This might _literally_ be the last time to treat me like an adult. You might wanna take it."

Danielle felt tears sting the corners of her eyes and, without warning, they were dripping down her cheeks.

"No," Ellen pleaded.

"Yes, mom."

"No, Jo," Dean shot down, his voice full of steely determination.

"Do you have another idea? Do you have any other plan? We can kill them, or at least give you guys a head start."

"I-I'm building a stretcher," Danielle stated. "We can sneak out the back."

"They have our scents," Jo replied, sounding so very tired. "Those sons of bitches will _never_ stop."

Danielle shook her head, walking away to the door, where the chains had stopped rattling. She peeked through the blinds, imagining all of them perched on the opposite sidewalk, muscles tensed and ready to pounce.

"You heard her," Ellen stated, her voice thin and fearful, lacking its usual strong confidence. "Get to work, boys."

Danielle sat at Jo's side while the boys put together the bombs. She grabbed onto Jo's hand with her good one, teary eyes focused on Jo's.

"If you ... don't get with the angel ... I'll be pissed," she stated, breathlessly laughing.

Danielle let out a small snort. "Don't delude yourself, Jo."

"Look at you ... You even talk like him."

The three girls all let out small laughs, which quickly morphed into sobs. Danielle sniffled, a tear dripping off her nose and onto Jo's soaked shirt.

"One day ... You might just actually make a decent hunter," Jo praised.

Danielle shook her head, her lips descending into a trembling frown. "I'm too scared."

"Fear's a mindset, honey," Ellen informed. "You gotta focus on something stronger than the fear."

Danielle looked between the two, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"You think ... you could bitch-slap the devil for me?" Jo whispered, her eyelids starting to droop.

"I'll try," she returned, seeing Dean head over towards her. Danielle squeezed Jo's hand, letting out another sob before standing up and heading over to Sam.

They didn't say anything, just shared a sad look. Danielle dropped her head, staring at the ratty tennis shoes she'd borrowed from Jo before watching Dean and Jo's heartbreaking goodbye. Dean finally stepped away before being replaced by Ellen, who intertwined her hand with Jo's.

"You guys better get goin'," Ellen ordered.

The realization of what she was saying hit them, and Danielle felt like she was drowning. "Ellen-"

"Mom, no," Jo protested.

"No," Ellen stated, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Someone has to open the door and let them in. And, like you said, you aren't moving."

Danielle sobbed into her good hand, biting her lip until it was white in an attempt to keep quiet.

Jo faced forwards, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Go," Ellen commanded, waving her hands at the devastated trio, who hesitated, words failing them. "Go!"

They turned around, jogging up the stairs and out onto the roof. Danielle followed behind the boys, careful not to brush her arm against anything. She held her gun in her good hand, pointed down at the ground.

They made it almost around the corner before the deafening noise ripped through the air. Danielle was battered by a rush of heat, debris flying all around them. She whirled around, watching as the building went up in flames.

Dean and Sam stared at the building for just a heartbeat before turning around, continuing on their path. Danielle didn't move, just gaped at the building.

"C'mon!" Dean growled, grabbing her good arm and towing her after him. She eventually managed to get her feet under her, running unsteadily. The shock had numbed her limbs, making it hard to move.

At least the rain had stopped.

After what seemed like hours, they made it to the farm. They snuck through the woods, peering through the leaves at the clearing. There was over a dozen men standing stock-still, black eyes locked on one man, who was digging some sort of pit.

"Is that him?" Danielle whispered.

"Yeah," Sam answered stonily.

Danielle frowned; he looked like any other man. She'd halfway been expecting some demonic creature complete with horns and shiny fangs.

"Last words?" Sam asked.

"I'm good," Dean replied.

"Yeah, me too."

They glanced back at Danielle, who shook her head. "I already said mine."

"Let's go kill us a devil," Dean stated, clapping Sam on the shoulder. Sam walked out in the clearing, waltzing right through all the demons, who didn't try to stop him.

Danielle snuck around the side with Dean, until they were parallel with Lucifer. It was dark enough that she couldn't quite see his face, but she supposed that was a good thing.

Dean started creeping forward, clutching the Colt in his hands. Danielle watched from the tree cover as Sam distracted the King of Hell.

Dean finally reached Lucifer, aiming his gun barrel inches from his skull. He cocked it, and the air was filled with a tense silence. Everyone's hearts threatened to bust out of their chests as they held their breath.

The bullet pierced through his skull, and the devil crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Danielle leapt to her feet, everything forgotten. She didn't bother trying to hide, every nerve in her body tingling. She couldn't dare to believe it. She glanced wide-eyed at Sam, not believing that it could've been that easy.

Suddenly, Lucifer's eyes snapped open, and he gasped a giant breath, followed by an incredibly whiny, "Owww!"

Horror froze Danielle's limbs as Satan rose to his feet, shooting Dean a pout. "Don't feel bad, kid. I happen to be one of the five things that gun can't kill."

And then Dean was flying towards her. Danielle gasped, jumping out of the way as he slammed against the tree trunk and fell to the ground.

Danielle glanced up, meeting Lucifer's blue-eyed gaze. She froze, terror like she'd never felt seeping into her limbs. He just smirked before turning to Sam.

Danielle stood frozen for a solid minute; she honestly thought she was going to die from a heart attack. The fear threatened to drive her mad, and she heard Ellen's voice in her head: find something stronger than the fear.

Danielle's eyes flickered to Dean, and she took a deep breath, fighting back the woozy feeling from hyperventilating. She dropped to her knees next to him, feeling for a pulse in his neck. If he died right now, she'd curl up into a ball and die. They'd already lost Ellen and Jo and probably Cas. Their numbers were dwindling.

"Wake up, please," Danielle whispered, violently shaking his shoulder. She glanced up as Sam darted over to them.

"He's alive," Danielle told him, eyes as wide as plates. "What do we do now?"

"You probably think I'm horrible," Lucifer suddenly commented, as if he was chatting casually about the weather. He leaned his arms nonchalantly over his shovel.

"What did you do to everybody?" Sam demanded, rising to his feet.

"One demon for every able-bodied man."

"And the rest?" Sam dared to ask.

Lucifer smirked, turning to look at the pit. "In there."

Danielle let out a small choking noise, fear seizing her heart. She clenched Dean's jacket, her whole body trembling with terror.

"The women and the kids were the first to go," he remarked in a singsong voice. "These pesky horsemen are so demanding. Say, Danielle, you wanna join them?"

She whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut and burying her face in her hands. Her lips brushed against her skin as she furtively prayed, begging for help.

"Don't worry; you will eventually. Just looking at me nearly drives you mad."

Danielle clamped her hands over her ears, but she didn't miss Sam's brisk order: "Don't talk to her."

Lucifer just shrugged, going back to digging before pausing. "I don't suppose you'll say yes here and now and make things easy?"

"I'll never say it," Sam growled.

"Oh, but I think you will. In fact, I think it'll happen in the next six months. In Detroit."

"Shut up!" Sam demanded, clearly unnerved.

Satan just shrugged again, letting the shovel fall next to him. He went over to the pit, opening his arms and saying some words in some ancient language.

Dean stirred, letting out a groan as he propped himself up on his elbow. Sam sank to his knees beside them, and they all watched while Satan sacrificed his demons.

"D-Do we stop him?" Danielle whispered.

"How?" came Sam's solemn answer.

Suddenly, Castiel appeared in front of them. Danielle let out a quiet sigh of relief, and he held a finger to his lips, motioning for them to be quiet. He reached out, touching Danielle first before grabbing Sam and Dean and disappearing.

* * *

**Fire and Ash: **I gotta build up to it! Haha, but don't worry, some inklings should start appearing soon (;

**chloejayneheart: **Thank you! (:


	16. Princess Peach

**Chapter 15: **

**Princess Peach**

_"The night racks my bones, and the pain that gnaws me takes no rest." – Job 30:17_

* * *

One Week Later

It had been a quiet week. Dean had been keeping to himself, sulking around the junkyard or taking the Impala and disappearing for stretches at a time. Sam was melancholy, and, while he hung around Danielle, he didn't much talk. Bobby was silent altogether, sitting in his wheelchair and staring at the fire. He occasionally would snap out of it and keep studying his Bible, but he would always fall back to sitting and staring. Silent.

And it wasn't like Danielle wanted to speak much, either. Death was still a concept that she hadn't grasped, and she kept expecting Jo and Ellen to reappear. It just wasn't fair that she'd gotten so close to them, Jo especially, and then for them to just die. She wanted to say something to the boys – she knew they all blamed themselves – but she didn't know what she could say. In all honesty, she kind of blamed herself too, though she knew she was too busy being mauled to help anyone.

The wound had gotten infected – hellhounds apparently had venomous saliva; who knew? – but it had long since died down, leaving nasty scabs after the gashes that was still tender to the touch.

Now she sat in the living room, plucking at a stray thread in the ratty blue blanket she had draped across her lap. Sam and Dean had left to take care of a job just that morning, leaving Danielle behind to rest. Castiel sat in the armchair across from her, as he had for the past half hour.

"What happened after you went after the reapers?" Danielle questioned, hair pulled into a ponytail.

"It was a trap," he replied. "Lucifer caught me."

"So you did get caught," Danielle muttered, crossing her legs under the blanket. "What happened? I mean, what'd he say?"

"He tried to convince me to side with him," Castiel stated.

"Did it work? I mean-" She broke off, realizing what she'd said. She flushed, stammering: "Oh, gosh, Cas, I didn't mean that; I know you never would, I was just asking ... was it convincing? Did he trick you?"

"Yes; he was very good at spinning intricate fabrications." Castiel's face fell as he suddenly thought of something.

"What?" Danielle questioned, not missing his expression. "Tell me."

"I should have asked him ... if he was the one who raised me from death."

She gaped, blinking in surprise. "Wha- Cas, no."

"It makes sense," he replied, looking at his hands held across his lap. "He-"

"What are you kids gossipin' about?" Bobby grunted, rolling into the room.

Danielle realized how close they were; they'd been leaning towards each other, absorbed in the conversation. Merely inches away, Danielle cleared her throat, sitting back and flushing in embarrassment. "Any word from Sam and Dean?" she asked, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

"Oh yeah. They were hunting a wraith."

Danielle cocked her head to the side, eyes narrowed in confusion. "I might've heard of those."

"Yeah. They suck your brain dry and then kill ya," Bobby retorted, wheeling over to the desk and flipping open his book. He apparently didn't find what he was looking for, shutting the book back and glancing around the room.

Danielle blinked. "Oh. Yeah, I must've been thinking of something way different."

"Hey, hand me that book beside ya, will ya?"

Danielle reached over and grabbed the book off the nightstand. "So are they comin' home now?"

"No, there's another case in Massachusetts. They're goin' straight there."

Danielle chunked the book at Bobby, who just barely managed to catch it. She winced, frowning down at her arm.

"Does it feel any better?" Castiel asked, reaching forward and gently holding her wrist and elbow.

"Well, it's not bleeding, and the wound's not open anymore, so." She shrugged, blushing as Castiel angled her arm, scrutinizing the closed wound. It was pretty nasty looking and no doubt would leave a wicked scar.

Bobby raised the book in farewell, wheeling out of the room and back to ... well, where ever he was before.

As if reading her thoughts, Castiel stated: "I'm sorry I can't heal it completely." He ran his thumb over the bumpy skin, and Danielle felt a chill run down her spine. She pulled her arm back.

"How much mojo do you have left?" Danielle asked, eyes flickering up to his brow. She hadn't missed how, even after a few days, his bruise hadn't gone away.

He turned that romance-novel stare on her, peering up through his dark lashes. "Not much," he admitted, glancing away.

"You still have enough to zap around everywhere, right?" she questioned. She meant to flash him a smile, but all she could muster was a faint twitch of the lips. "Because that comes in pretty handy."

He didn't smile. Instead, he stared down at his hands. "The more I use it, the faster it goes. It won't be long before it's all gone."

"What happens then?" Danielle whispered. She wasn't quite sure why, but it just didn't seem right to talk much louder. Especially considering the sullenness of their conversation; it carved into the quiet of Bobby's house. It was as if they were talking about something that was just a possibility, and if they spoke too loudly, it would become a reality.

"I become human," he muttered.

* * *

The Following Day

Cas gently took her arm again, running his fingers over the bumpy skin. The corners of his lips dipped down, and his eyes bored into hers.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, his voice gruff.

Danielle's heart was hammering hard in her chest. She balked, not sure what to say. Her mouth went dry, palms clammy.

He slowly leaned down towards her arm, as if he meant to kiss her scarred skin. Danielle froze, heart jumping into her throat.

He melted away, leaving nothing behind, but she could feel hot breath on her arm. The air shimmered ... almost as if it was the outline of a huge dog.

Danielle sucked in a breath, trying to rip her arm away. Incisors sank into her ruined flesh, and she cried out as she saw blood well up in the holes appearing.

There was a loud snap, and the shimmery dog disappeared with a whine. Danielle glanced down at her arm, surprised to see it was completely healed: no holes, no blood, not even the scars.

Danielle tensed up, noticing her surroundings for the first time: she was in Bobby's living room, with a familiar outline standing in the doorway.

She furrowed her brow, leaning forwards. "Anna?"

The angel stepped forward, an amused smirk resting on her face. "You dream about Cas?"

Danielle flushed scarlet, glancing away. "Not like I can help it," she mumbled. The last time she'd seen Anna had been when she turned Anna over to Uriel and Castiel. It seemed like ages ago, thinking back on it. It was back when Danielle was naive (even more so than now), and angels were good. Her family hadn't died, and Castiel wasn't on their side.

"I suppose," she stated, inclining her head towards the human. "It's nice to see you again."

"I guess you got away, huh," Danielle commented, standing up.

Anna shot her a sly, amused smirk. "That time I did. But not the next time."

"You got caught? And you're still alive?"

"Hardly," she snorted crudely. "I escaped. I can't find you."

"Oh, Cas did this Enochian thing to hide us from the ange-" Danielle's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What are you doing here, Anna?"

"I need your help," she said earnestly, taking a step forward.

Danielle mirrored her movements, stepping backwards. "With what?"

"Danielle, I'm not going to hurt you," she promised. "I have good intentions."

"Then tell me what you want," Danielle demanded.

Anna smiled. "You're stronger now. Good. You'll need it for the upcoming times. There's a book. Bobby Singer has it."

"What book?"

"A journal. It dates back to the twelfth century. Do you think you could help me find it?"

Danielle hesitated, chewing on her lip. She stared at Anna's earnest expression for a few minutes before sighing. "Yeah, sure. I'll meet you in Bobby's basement."

Her eyes snapped open, and she groaned as she started awake. Rubbing her eyes, she rolled off the couch. She got momentarily tangled in her blanket, wrestling with it for a second before getting free. She sighed at the familiar sight of Bobby slumped over in his wheelchair behind his desk, which was covered in notes and Revelations passages.

Danielle felt her arm pinch, and she frowned down at it. The bumpy scar tissue was still there, still ugly and still slightly swollen.

She started down the basement stairs, flicking on the single light bulb that hung from the ceiling. The light was dim at best and flickered a lot. Danielle had suggested a new light bulb, but apparently something was wrong with the wiring.

Danielle shuffled over to one of Bobby's many bookshelves, sliding out a huge box full of books. All of them in that box were either falling apart or had gotten some kind of damage. It was also where the oldest books were. She struggled to pick up the heavy box, setting it on a short bookshelf.

"What are these?"

Danielle jumped, nearly kicking over the shelf. She steadied it, throwing a glance over her shoulder at Anna. "These are the oldest books Bobby has," she answered, affectionately patting the box. She'd paged through a lot of them, reading over all the interesting information. A lot of it was wrong - medieval age hunters weren't quite as knowledgeable as present-day ones - but it was still intriguing. "If Bobby has the book you're looking for, it'll be in here."

Anna stepped forward, running her gaze over the dusty spines. Her skin seemed paler than before, and her lips were drawn tight. Danielle felt her heart squirm; what had the angels done to her in prison?

"That would be great, but I'm not looking for a book." She looked up at Danielle, face set in stone.

Danielle furrowed her brow in confusion. "I thought ... You said you needed a journal?"

"I lied."

Danielle's heart sputtered in her chest, and she tensed in fear. Anna's expression was completely blank, if not a little vengeful. She took a step back, putting the shelf between her and Anna. "What do you want?"

"I'm sorry."

Danielle whirled around to run as the angel appeared right in front of her. She reached out, and Danielle jumped backwards, managing to knock over the shelf before the tips of Anna's cool fingers brushed against her temple.

* * *

Bobby jerked, head shooting up so fast his hat toppled off. He wasn't sure what exactly woke him up, but he knew it was bad enough for him to snatch up the rifle resting at his feet. It wasn't until after he'd cocked the gun that he realized it was dead quiet. It had been a noise that'd woken him up; a loud, distinctive bang.

He glanced at the couch, finding it abandoned. The blanket was strewn on the ground, as if it was pulled or wrestled away. He had a mental image of Danielle being dragged out of the couch and pushed it away. Don't jump to conclusions, he reminded himself, but he felt a note of frenzy stir inside him.

He checked the front door, seeing that none of the many locks had been opened. The doorframe showed no sign of forced entry, though that did little to ease his worry. There were plenty of things that could get in without using a door.

Bobby parked his wheelchair at the top of the basement stairs, noticing the light had been left on. It was off before he went to bed, and Danielle had fallen asleep before him. "Hello?" he demanded, unable to get down the stairs to take a good look around.

He heard nothing over the sound of his pounding heart and short breaths. He backed away from the basement, angling his chair towards the upstairs. "Danny?" he called.

After a few more times with no response, he wheeled outside. Sometimes she liked to go sit outside, but normally it was only during twilight and rarely by herself. After calling several times, he figured the only place she might be would be the one place he couldn't get to.

He rolled his wheelchair to the top of the basement, leaning forward and trying to see anything in the unreliable light. Not for the first time, he cursed the faulty wiring. He could see the panic room, as open and empty as ever, and he could see a few of his bookshelves.

He frowned, leaning forward. He looked as far as he could to the right, squinting at the dark shape on the floor. Fearing it might've been Danielle's body, he grabbed onto the railing, leaning so far he almost fell out of his seat.

The shadow morphed into his bookshelf, which had been knocked over. His antique books were spread all across the floor; several of them had fallen apart, shedding their pages around the creaky floorboard.

Bobby sat back, rubbing his face. He cursed, hitting his rifle angrily against his lap. How had someone actually snuck in the room, snatched Danielle from the couch and dragged her down to the basement without waking him up?

He wheeled quickly over to his desk, picking up his personal cell phone and dialing his speed dial.

"Bobby, it's the middle of the night," came Dean's groggy answer, his voice deep from sleep.

"Someone took Danielle!"

There was the sound of rustling before Dean's voice came back, much more alert and brisk. "Come again?"

"Someone snuck in the damn house and stole Danielle right under my damn nose!"

There was a loud groan before Sam's voice briskly asked, "Bobby, what are you talking about?"

"What, am I not speaking English? Get your asses here, now!"

"Dean, what is it?" Sam asked, his voice muffled as he angled away from the phone.

"I had a dream. Anna was it."

"So?" Bobby and Sam demanded at the same time.

Bobby couldn't see Dean clench his jaw before dropping his head in his hands. "She told me she took Danielle. She wants to meet me."

* * *

Danielle staggered as her surroundings abruptly changed; she would never get used to that. It was like having a rug yanked out from under your feet.

She whirled around, seeing that she was in a barn of some sort. The room was vast, with no floor and a leaky ceiling. The walls consisted of moist, decaying wood and the whole building smelled like rust and worms.

Danielle tried not to gag, avoiding puddles of water as she passed by the support beams, staring at all the miscellaneous objects scattered around: lockers, construction equipment, beer cans, food wrappers, a few condoms (Danielle stayed very far from those), and even a piano.

She knew she didn't have long. She'd been kidnapped by an angel for whatever reason; most likely, she wanted revenge for Danielle almost turning her in that one night ages ago. And revenge most likely meant torture, which could end in her death.

Or maybe she was a bargaining chip. Against an angel, a demon, whoever. Anna was the dealer and Danielle the drug; she'd go to whoever bid highest.

Or maybe Lucifer himself planned to use her against Sam. Anna was a rebel angel; it would make sense if she worked for Lucifer. Maybe she was one of the angels he was using against Castiel as an attempt to sway him to the devil's side.

Danielle didn't really care. No, scratch that, she did care. Just not at that moment. She had to get out.

So far Anna had been AWOL. However, Danielle still crept around, being careful to not crunch her bare feet on the gravel. The cold was starting to seep up into her feet, making her shiver. Running around a wet barn in January with nike shorts and a t-shirt on was definitely not the most convenient circumstance.

Danielle spotted a pair of double doors at the end of the barn. A knot of fear settled in her stomach, and she cast wary gazes around the dark room as she snuck down to the doors, staying in the shadows. Something wasn't right; it couldn't be _that_ easy. Anna was powerful - even more powerful than Cas - and had been around longer. She was tricky; she'd proven that to Danielle. This could be all a trick.

Or, possibly, an illusion. Like Gabriel was prone to.

If the boys could see her now, prowling around in the dark, not letting fear paralyze her.

Danielle crouched next to the last support beam. The doors were only fifteen feet away, but Danielle would have to cross open ground. She hadn't realized it from her previous spot, but there was a chain wrapped around the handles, all dressed up with a lock. She glanced around, her eyes falling on a screwdriver and a hammer. She scurried over, her fingers closing around the handles. In case the screwdriver wouldn't work, she could use the hammer just to break it off. And maybe she could hold off Anna - or whatever - if it came down to it.

Danielle sucked in a deep breath before jumping forward, sprinting across the short distance. She made it to the door, shoving the screwdriver into the hole. She jiggled it around for a moment, but to no avail.

Danielle had no idea if it would work, but she brought the hammer down on the end of the screwdriver. The lock twitched, and she could see the metal starting to bend. She hit it again and once more after that.

The lock fell to the ground, clattering loudly. She winced, tensing up and glancing over her shoulder. There was no movement. Nothing. Not even a pebble moved.

Danielle's stomach sank to her feet. This was definitely not right. But she continued, unwrapping the heavy chain with some difficulty. She grabbed the screwdriver again, pushing open the double doors.

For a second, she was free. She could see the parking lot, the few cars resting there glittered with raindrops. The street laid not but twenty yards from the doors, a single car flying past. The air was a little humid, but it felt glorious compared to the stiffness of the building.

She made to run, pushing off the gravel and expecting to meet cement, but was met with the metal of the door instead. The doors slammed shut, sending her flying back into the room.

Danielle didn't even register what happened for a few seconds, staring at the blurry ceiling, stunned. She groaned, feeling pebbles and shards of broken beer bottles scratching against her back. Her nose was stinging, and her head felt like it was about to explode from pressure. Her lips were aching too, feeling hot and swollen. Blood trickled into her mouth, and she reached up to realize her lips were cut up and bleeding, as were her nose and forehead.

"I'm sorry, but you can't leave."

Danielle let out a pitiful moan, turning to her stomach. She picked up her gaze, which made the space behind her eyeballs want to explode. Her blurry, shaky vision focused on the image walking towards her.

Danielle pulled her arms underneath her, pushing off and rising to her feet. She swayed, staggering a little to the left before steadying herself.

"I'm impressed," Anna stated, flashing her a smirk. "Not long ago a blow like that would've nearly killed you."

"I've b-been training," Danielle blubbered, her bottom lip impairing her speech. Already, it was swollen almost twice its size, bleeding into her mouth. Danielle pulled a Dean, spitting out the blood to the side.

"Clearly." Anna's response sounded ... amused. Was she being sarcastic? Danielle figured she was; Danielle knew she wasn't the most athletic player on the field.

Anna kept coming closer, and Danielle took a step back, feigning fear. She wanted the angel to fall for it, to keep coming closer. Danielle readjusted her sweaty grip on the screwdriver (which she, miraculously, hadn't dropped), throwing a glance over her shoulder at the door.

She looked back towards the angel, who was suddenly right in front of her. "I don't want to hurt you," she stated in earnest.

Danielle didn't even respond; she just pulled her arms back and, with all her might, drove the screwdriver straight into Anna's heart.

It was harder and easier than she expected in so many ways. The skin was much tougher to get through than she'd thought, but, once she got past that, the tool went straight through, piercing the angel's heart. And Danielle had felt it, felt the tool cut and squelch through the tissue like it was butter. Danielle had never thought that she would actually have it in her to stab someone; maybe if she was trying to protect someone, but never in self-defense. Blood spattered over Danielle's face, and she stared at Anna in horror, realizing what she'd done.

The angel's white shirt quickly turned red from blood, and she froze, blood dribbling from the corner of her mouth.

But she didn't drop.

Danielle knew that only an angel blade could kill her, but she was hoping that if she got Anna in the heart, it would at least knock her unconscious for a minute or so. But she wasn't expecting Anna to stare her straight in the eye as she pulled the screwdriver from her chest.

For a horrible second, Danielle thought Anna was about to stab her. She sure looked as if she wanted to; the coldness in her eyes transferred to Danielle, sending a chill down her spine. She thought of a marble statue; an unfeeling piece of rock that followed orders without empathy.

Except this piece of rock took orders from only her confused self.

The screwdriver tumbled from Anna's hands, and she kicked it away. "I can't let you leave. I'm sorry."

She snapped her fingers, and Danielle found herself in a chair. She wasn't bound by anything visible, but she couldn't move her arms from the arms of the chair. Her legs were in the same situation: stuck to the legs.

She looked up at Anna with wide eyes. "Why can't you let me go? Anna, why are you doing this?"

She didn't answer, instead disappearing.

Danielle struggled - oh, she struggled for several minutes - before finally giving up. She huffed in frustration, slumping against the back of the chair.

As the adrenaline started fading away, the pain seeped in. The intensity took Danielle's breath away; she thought she was just a little bruised and shaken up, but her face felt like it was on fire. Her elbows and back ached from where she'd scraped them up falling, and her tailbone sent sharp pains up her back.

Blood kept dripping from her face and into her mouth, down her chin, all over her shirt and shorts. She knew it couldn't have all been coming from her nose; a lot of it had to come from her lips, and the rest from the grooves and scrapes in her forehead.

Now that she wasn't moving, the cold was really starting to get to her. She was halfway under a hole in the ceiling, and her bare legs were drenched by the freezing rain. Her whole body was shivering, and she gnashed her teeth together to keep them from chattering.

She struggled to find some way out of the mess she was in; she called for Cas, she screamed herself hoarse, but nothing happened. Eventually she just slumped over, trying not to freeze or bleed to death.

* * *

**Okay guys, I love this chapter for so many reasons. Cas and Danny bonding and talking and uGH my otp is just too much. And then Anna taking Danielle - HELLO PLOT TWIST. Danielle actually being strong and defending herself and ****_stabbing someone_**** oh God send help. My sweet baby, not cowering anymore. **

**R: Ugh, me too. I don't know how Sam and Dean are so brave; I wouldn't be able to handle it. Thanks for reviewing! (:**

**NotCrazyJustWeird97: I'VE MISSED YOU! I'm so glad you figured that out; posting just wasn't the same without you! Those stupid archangels, smh. Someone needs to teach them a lesson! Hahaha!**


	17. Mario

**Chapter 16: **

**Mario**

* * *

She didn't know how much time had passed when Anna finally showed up again; enough time for Danielle to doze off several times. Judging by the lack of sunlight streaming in through the hole in the ceiling, Danielle assumed it was night of the next day.

"What do you want, Anna?" Danielle croaked upon catching sight of the angel, voice hoarse from misuse.

Anna stiffened, brow furrowing as she stepped further into the room. "Hello?" she called, almost sounding scared.

A couple leaves on the floor drifted by as a breeze blew through the building, making a painful shudder run through Danielle's body.

The lights hanging from the ceiling popped, showering sparks down onto the ground. Danielle flinched, closing her eyes and hunching down as one exploded right over her. Thankfully she was too damp for any of the sparks to catch fire in her hair.

"Hello, Anna."

The gravelly voice made Danielle jolt awake, eyes snapping up to the familiar angel in a trench coat, standing in front of Anna. Danielle sighed in relief, leaning her head back on the chair. She didn't care that Cas was half-starved for angel power, or that Anna was so much stronger than him. If he was here, then he would find a way to get her out.

"Castiel," Anna replied, sounding fearful. She moved to face him, turning her back to Danielle. "The Winchesters were supposed to come."

"But here I am," Castiel retorted, almost with a sense of crude humor. "How unfortunate for you."

"Do the Winchesters not trust me?"

"No. Not anymore. Neither do I. If you're back, then it's because they _let_ you out."

"I escaped," Anna protested, eyes following Castiel as she circled around her, like a wolf surrounding his prey.

"No one escapes," came his stony response, and his blue eyes, almost black in the darkness, rested on Danielle's slumped form. Despite her posture, her eyes were alert. Castiel felt a flicker of anger inside him. How could anyone hurt her? She was so innocent, so pure. Even when faced with the world's cruelty several times over, she always dealt with it and remained, worrying about others more than herself. "Are you alright?"

A dry smirk crossed her lips. "Hanging in there," she wheezed.

"What did you do to her?" Castiel demanded, rounding on Anna.

"She tried to escape."

"Because you trapped her like an animal," Castiel argued. "Tricked her and then kidnapped her."

Anna looked away, sporting a heavy expression Castiel was learning symbolized shame. Good. She should feel ashamed. "I wasn't going to kill her."

"Then what are you doing with that knife?" Castiel asked. He didn't have to look at her to see the blade; he'd noticed it as soon as he showed up.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Danielle stiffen, straightening up as Anna pulled the knife out from where she'd hidden it in her waistband. "What? I'm not allowed to defend myself?"

"Against whom?" came Castiel's sharp retort. "That knife doesn't kill angels. Not like this one."

No one had seen Castiel draw the blade; he just had it at his side. He could see the smile flicker across Danielle's face, almost as if she was proud.

And, for some strange reason, that struck a cord of happiness in his chest. He liked that she was proud of him. He stood a little straighter, narrowing his eyes at Anna, daring her to lie to him.

The angel knew she was caught. Her nervous gaze flickered back and forth between the blade and Castiel, both knowing that he wouldn't hesitate to kill her. "It's not for her," Anna explained. "It's for Sam Winchester."

Castiel's brow furrowed, and he glanced at Danielle, who looked as confused as he did. Suddenly, clarity dawned on the both of them.

"Sam Winchester has to die," Anna stated. "I'm sorry, but we both know it. He's Lucifer's vessel."

"But not the only one," Castiel argued.

"What, that guy Nick? He's burning away as we speak. Sam is the only one that matters. We kill him, and Lucifer's whole plan falls to shreds."

"He won't say yes," Danielle said from her chair, wincing as she spoke. Her throat felt like sandpaper.

Anna ignored her, speaking only to Cas. "No apocalypse, no Croatoan virus. Danielle doesn't die." Castiel sent her a sharp glance; he hadn't known she would die in the future. She just looked away. "The horsemen go back to their days jobs."

Danielle's heart pounded in her chest; Anna was making a lot of sense. If Danielle wasn't friends with Sam, she'd want to do the same thing. What was the death of one person for the good of the whole planet? And, if word ever got out about Sam's being Lucifer's vessel, people would be lining up around the block to kill him.

Castiel, as unnerved as Danielle, shook his head, stepping away. "Even if you did, Satan would just bring him back."

"Not if I scatter his cells across the universe."

"There has to be another way," Castiel agreed.

Anna gave a humorless snort. "How's the Colt working out for you? The search for God? Nothing's _working_."

Danielle fell back against the chair, stunned. She hadn't thought of it that way. She was always so positive, so optimistic, that often times she refused to see things from different perspectives. She would pidgeon-hole herself.

Up until that point, she had actually thought Sam and Dean might find a way. Dean had seemed so sure, as did Cas, who'd been yanking himself all over the planet searching for God. _God_.

What else did they have? The Colt - the gun that could kill anything - wouldn't work. An angel blade wouldn't work. Salt, holy water, fire- none of it!

And then the earth-shattering truth hit Danielle, knocking the breath out of her.

They weren't going to kill the devil. No one was. He was going to bring about the apocalypse, even without Sam. He'd bounce from vessel to vessel, until he either broke Sam's spirit (by killing all of his friends/family) or tricked him.

But none of them were strong enough to keep fighting. Not forever. And Michael and Satan wouldn't let them die; they'd just keep existing, until they got what they wanted.

"Danielle?"

Danielle picked up her gaze, realizing Castiel was standing in front of her. Anna was gone, and her arms and legs could move again.

"Are you alright?" the angel asked, reaching down and gingerly pulling herself to her feet.

"Physically, yeah," she answered dully, lacking her usual shine. She kept her eyes downcast, using Cas as a support as she stretched out her frozen legs.

"Mentally?" Cas questioned.

Danielle picked up her guilty gaze, a deep frown pulling at her lips. "We're gonna lose," she whispered.

Castiel's heart gave a little squeeze. He'd never seen the girl so downhearted, except after her family died, but he hadn't known her back then. Not only was her face scuffed up and bleeding, but so was her soul. Buffeted and jerked around from place to place, fighting with the wind. It'd been ripped several times, but she'd never noticed. Now she was risking a glance down, realizing she was falling apart.

"Michael and Lucifer will never stop. They're like the Hellhounds. They've got our scents, and _they're not gonna stop coming_. Not til they get what they want." She exhaled, her hands clutching Castiel's forearms. She started shaking her head, her whole body shivering- from pain, shock, cold, or maybe all three.

"We can't just give up," Castiel protested, his voice weak.

Danielle let out a humorless laugh that made his frown grow deeper. "Look around you!" she croaked. "Castiel ... " She shook her head again, unable to put the rush of confusing thoughts and feelings that were trying to pour out of her mouth into words. "We're done."

"Sam and Dean are waiting," Castiel stated. "We need to go."

Out of the blue, Danielle let out a shuddering breath, pressed against Castiel. He wasn't sure if her legs had given out, or if she'd actually meant to do it, but he found himself holding the girl as she gripped onto the edges of the trench coat. She leaned her head against his chest, her shoulders shaking as she silently cried.

Castiel was bewildered. He stared down at the girl, holding her under the elbows so she wouldn't fall. He glanced around, desperate to find someone to help him. He'd seen what humans did in these situations, but he didn't know how to do it- he'd never had to.

Castiel released her elbows, and she wobbled, almost toppling over. He quickly wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her steady. He hesitantly pulled his other around her back, tensely waiting for something to happen.

How long was this supposed to go on? Was he doing this right? Did he pull away first, or was she supposed to? Were her injuries hurting her? … Did she really believe there was no hope?

She let out a heart-breaking sniffle, releasing his coat and hugging him around the middle. He could feel her racing heart all the way through his chest, her breath warming a spot just below the knot in his tie.

He decided then and there that he didn't like it when Danielle Samson cried. He much preferred her smiles and cheerfulness rather than ... this. But not just because it was uncomfortable and awkward, but because she was his friend as much as Sam and Dean. She'd snuck up on him; he didn't know he liked her as quickly as he'd realized he liked Dean or Sam. But she and all her optimistic thoughts were currently crying in his arms about something that might not even happen yet, and that bothered him to no end.

And that was when Castiel learned that Danielle had a dark side. The girl who cried at the drop of the pin and was too scared to stand up to a friend, had a gaping hole of a dark side. The fear had turned into a paranoia, which had morphed into a full-blown panic. It was eating her up, from the inside out. She was alone and desperate and scared and trying to keep a grip on what little she had left: two brothers, an angel who wasn't even there half the time, and a wheelchair-bound drunk.

Almost subconsciously, he felt his arms tighten around her, pulling her tighter against his chest. He could hear her heart beating even faster and felt the cold tears seeping through his shirt. Her hair smelled faintly of shampoo, but mostly of blood and sweat.

"I won't give up," Castiel promised. "Neither will Sam or Dean or Bobby."

Danielle nodded, her arms dropping away from his waist. He mirrored her actions, and she reached up to wipe her face, wincing.

"Ow," she whined.

"Sam and Dean are waiting. Are you ready?"

Danielle turned her fearful gaze up to him. She steeled herself, taking a deep breath and nodding. She held out a hand, simply saying: "Let's go."

Castiel glanced at her outstretched hand for a second before grabbing her palm and disappearing.

* * *

One Hour Later

They sat in the motel room, Dean attending to Danielle's wounds, Castiel searching for Anna, and Sam's gaze flickering between the two.

"Sam, hand me the bottle of whiskey," Dean ordered, pushing Danielle back on the bed.

"You can't pour whiskey on my face!" Danielle protested, struggling against Dean's grip. "You need peroxide!"

"Peroxide is for sissies," Dean stated, pushing her down. "Just close your eyes, baby."

Danielle shot him a glare before doing what he said, gritting her teeth. He used a hand to cup her eyes, pouring the whiskey on her forehead. She hissed as her cuts burned.

"I can't believe it ... Anna." Dean shook his head. He dowsed her swollen lips with the alcohol, and she snapped her eyes open, swallowing a mouthful. She pushed Dean away, choking and running to the sink to spit out the vile drink.

"I knew you were just trying to get me drunk," she mumbled, shivering. "It's freezing."

"Dan, it's like 78 degrees in here," Sam pointed out.

"I've been sitting in the rain for ... how long was it?" she asked, glancing at Cas.

"A day," came his response.

"So I probably have a cold," she muttered.

"Get over here and let me finish putting band-aids on," Dean demanded.

"No more whiskey," she protested. Dean rolled his eyes and nodded, and she sat beside him, letting him bandage the cuts on her face.

"I mean, would killing me even work?" Sam asked.

"No!" Danielle and Dean said in unison.

Sam turned his gaze on Castiel, ignoring the humans. "Cas?"

Danielle fixed the angel with a challenging glare, daring him to say anything other than no. Castiel looked back at Sam. "No, probably not."

"I don't understand why she took me instead of Dean. Wouldn't Dean be the better bait?" Danielle questioned.

"Maybe," Castiel stated from where he was drawing on a nightstand. "But you were far easier to trick and steal, rather than a trained hunter."

Danielle looked away, crestfallen. Castiel glanced at Sam in confusion; what'd he do?

"Dan, you're still new to this stuff," Dean pointed out. "And you're learning! We've been doing this our whole lives."

"I didn't trust her at first; I thought she wanted revenge. But she was nice, and I felt like I owed her and she just wanted help ..." Danielle shook her head, dropping her face in her hands before flinching as she accidentally touched her wounds. "But I fought back," she said, a hint of pride shadowing her words. "She hit me with a door, and then I stabbed her with a screwdriver."

Dean barked a laugh, clapping his hands; she looked so friggin' proud of herself to have stabbed an angel. Danielle laughed as well before she started coughing.

"So why are we summoning Anna?" Danielle asked. "Isn't she stronger than ... all of us?"

"Maybe," came Castiel's stern response. "But she won't stop until she gets what she wants. Or until she's dead." He locked gazes with everyone in the room, the significance of his words weighing on all of them.

"How many blades do you have?" Danielle asked, cutting through the heavy silence that had descended in the room.

"Two."

Danielle nodded as Castiel looked down at the nightstand. He began to speak in Enochian, his deep voice reverberating around the room. It was like a bass speaker, making Danielle's heart start beating faster. He rolled his 'r's, and she looked away, a blush darkening on her cheeks and struggling to hide her smirk.

This is serious, she reminded herself. They were about to murder someone. It was no time to be swooning over an angel, no matter how attractive he was.

Castiel suddenly broke off, swaying precariously on his feet. He stumbled, gripping to the back of the chair to support himself. His face was screwed up, almost in pain.

Danielle jumped forward, ready to catch him if he fell, which looked like a very real possibility. "Are you okay?" she asked, eyes wide in concern.

He stayed quiet, eyes clenched shut. His knuckles were white from his tight grip on the chair.

"Where is she?" Dean demanded after Castiel took a deep breath.

"Not where. When. 1978."

Dean and Sam shared a stupefied glance. "Why; I wasn't even born yet."

Danielle's eyes went wide, as she and Cas realized at the same time: "You won't be."

"She's going to kill your parents," Castiel added, releasing the chair and standing on his own.

"Well then what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

Castiel shook his head. "Time travel was difficult with the powers of Heaven at my disposal. Taking the trip, with passengers nonetheless … will weaken me."

"They're our parents," Dean responded firmly. "We're going."

"Danielle can stay behind, keep an eye on things," Sam offered.

Danielle wanted to go so bad; she'd jump at any chance to go back in time. She opened her mouth to protest, but she caught Castiel's tired gaze and she fell silent. "Cas, are you sure you can do this?"

Castiel looked down at the ground for a second before bravely meeting her gaze. "I will try."

"You have enough juice to go and come back, right?" she clarified. The last thing they needed was to get stuck in 1978.

Castiel looked grim, but he nodded anyways. Danielle helped him pack a duffel bag with a few vases of the holy oil and his two angel blades.

"Cas," she whispered, keeping her voice low enough that the boys, who were packing their bags on the other side of the room, wouldn't hear her. "You _can_ do this, right?"

"Yes," he muttered back, avoiding her gaze.

"Castiel," she whispered, catching his guilty gaze. "Tell me."

He stared at her for a second, not missing the fact they were hardly a foot apart and were leaning closer. "I'm afraid this trip might deplete the rest of my powers."

Danielle frowned. "Is that it?"

Castiel scowled; she was much too observant for her own good. "It could possibly kill me," he added, stuffing the blade in the bag.

"Castiel!" she hissed, reaching forward and grabbing his coat arm, just above the elbow. Cas glanced down at her hand in surprise, but she didn't let go, her gaze intense. "You can't do this."

"I have to," came the just as intense response, making Danielle blink in surprise. His eyes burned into hers, and he leaned even closer. "I have to keep all of you safe. If that means I die, so be it."

Danielle felt her heart swell; Castiel was willing to die for them, for her. He was their freaking knight in a trench coat. She wanted to be mad at him for it, but she couldn't bring herself to be.

"Uh... you two having a moment?"

Danielle glanced over at Sam, who looked mildly freaked, and Dean, who had his eyes narrowed in suspicion. She blushed, releasing his jacket and stepping away, setting her hands on her hips. She wanted to tell Sam and Dean, just to warn them, but Castiel's eyes trained solely on her, his expression clearly telling her not to tell them.

"Uh, no, we were just talking. About a plan." She nodded and gave the boys a thin-lipped smile.

Neither of them believed her, that much was obvious, but they had better things to worry about.

"Are you two ready?" Castiel asked, handing Sam the duffel bag full of angel-killing equipment.

"How long do you think this'll take?" Danielle asked. "I mean, how long before I need to start worrying?"

"Hopefully it should just take a day or so. If everything goes well, we'll be back by dinner time." Dean winked and looked back at Cas. "Let's go."

Castiel reached out and touched their foreheads, leaving Danielle alone in the early morning light.

* * *

18 Hours Later

Danielle stared at herself in the mirror. She looked hideous with her swollen, busted lips and forehead that looked like a cat's scratching post. Her whole face seemed to be one continuous bruise; she had _two_ black eyes for goodness's sake.

Her throat burned, raw and inflamed. Her nose kept running, and she had a killer headache. She was starting to show symptoms of a cold.

There was a loud noise, and she could hear someone gasping. She jumped back, jerking her gaze away from the mirror and spotting a bewildered, frantic Sam.

"Sam, are you okay?" she demanded as he started clutching at his side, almost as if he was wounded. "Where's Dean and Cas?"

Sam's eyes were huge as he looked up at her. "I dunno!" he exclaimed, clawing away his shirt to stare at his abdomen.

"Sam, you're scaring me," Danielle said in the doorway of where the kitchen met the bedroom. "What's happening?"

"I- I died!" he stated, pointing at his unwounded stomach. "Uriel stabbed me!"

"What? Sam, Uriel's dead!"

Dean suddenly appeared in the room, stumbling into his brother. He grabbed Sam's arms, and Sam did the same to Dean.

"Are you okay?" Dean demanded, eyes raking over his brother.

"Yeah, yeah. You?"

Dean just nodded before pulling his brother into a huge hug.

Danielle, bewildered and frustrated, clapped her hands to get the boys attention. "Guys!" she croaked. "What _happened_?! Where's Cas?"

The boys separated, sharing an 'oh, crud' look. "Michael zapped us back," Dean said.

"M- Michael? The _archangel_ Michael; the one who's trying to make you his vessel?"

"You want me to explain or not?" Dean barked, and Danielle clamped her lips together. She listened without protest as Dean repeated the actions of the past 18 hours while Sam peered around Danielle, eyebrows furrowed.

"So what about Cas? I mean, w-what do we do?" Danielle asked, running her hands through her hair before coughing. It was a dry, raspy cough, and it burned her throat.

"He'll show up eventually," Dean retorted, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Why do you care so much anyways?"

"What do you mean? Because he's my friend," she protested.

"Danny, is that ... steak?" Sam asked, pointing at the plates of food on the table.

Danielle sighed, waving her arm. "Yeah. I thought y'all would be hungry, and I figured if there ever was time to blow fifty dollars on food, it would be now."

Dean's eyes lit up, despite his exhaustion and foul mood. "You got us steak?!"

She nodded, unable to not smile at the boys' excited faces. "And there's ice-cold beer in the fridge."

Grins split across both of their faces, and they shared a glance. "You're awesome," Sam pointed out, quickly grabbing the beers and taking a seat at the table. Dean and Danielle joined him.

"Did you already eat?" Dean asked around a mouthful of half-chewed sirloin.

Danielle shook her head, her stomach tight with worry. "I haven't been hungry."

"Here, eat my mashed potatoes," Sam offered, turning his plate so she could reach the potatoes better.

"I'm really not hungry. I've got a cold." She started chewing nervously on her nail, staring at the table. Concern was gnawing at her stomach, and she could only think of a dying Cas, stuck and unable to come back.

Dean sighed. "Dan, he'll be fine."

"You don't know that," she retorted. "He told me ... that he didn't know if he was even going to make it. The more magic he uses, the more it drains him. If he uses too much at one time ..." She hopelessly shook her head, running her hands through her hair.

"Danielle, think of how many times we thought Cas was dead or as good as dead," Sam stated. "He always comes back."

"Yeah," Dean added, setting his fork and knife down on his now-empty plate. He wiped his face with his napkin before clenching it in his fist. "We'll wait until morning, and, if he hasn't shown up by then, we'll figure something out. Don't worry, Lois, we'll get Superman back."

Danielle smiled a little at Dean's joke, rolling her eyes. He stood up, and in a rare gesture of affection, kissed the top of her head. "You're the best."

"I know," she responded as he tossed the crumpled napkin on the counter.

He rubbed his palms together, heading to the far bed. "Seriously, Danny, don't get worked up. That little sucker's impossible to kill." He fell face-first on the blankets, not even bothering to change out of his jeans.

Danielle shared an amused glance with Sam, who was only about halfway done with his meal.

"So Anna's dead, huh?" Sam nodded. "And Michael didn't try to threaten Dean or anything? He just ... talked to him?"

Sam shrugged and nodded. "More or less. Dean was skimpy with the details." He glanced over his shoulder at his brother before dropping his voice. "I think he really got to him."

Danielle frowned, looking down at the table for a second. She wanted to voice her concerns; the dreads she had about their futures, but she didn't want to give up on the boys. She stood up, grabbing Dean's plate and washing it in the sink.

She was drying it off when she glimpsed in the faucet and saw a beige figure standing behind her. She gasped, dropping the plate on the counter and whirling around just in time to catch Castiel as he crumpled over.

He was too heavy for her to hold, so she clumsily fell to her knee, clutching onto his body. "Cas?" she demanded, shaking him. "Cas!"

Sam stood up so fast he knocked his chair over, helping her pick the angel up. "You made it!" he exclaimed.

Cas's eyes had difficulty focusing; he stared down at his hands, leaning heavily on Danielle. "I suppose I did," he stated. He looked confusedly at the girl. "I'm very surprised."

His eyes suddenly rolled back, and he crumpled again. The two struggled to get a good enough hold on him, until Dean came over and took over Danielle's position. Together, the brothers dropped an unconscious Cas on the empty bed.

Danielle immediately went to his side, pulling him all the way up the bed. She took the pillows and piled them under his feet, setting his legs higher than his chest. She pulled his shoes and socks off, trying not to marvel at the fact that Castiel actually had feet.

Dean sighed, going over to the fridge and filling up two shot glasses with whiskey. "Well, this is it," he commented.

Danielle shot him a confused look before loosening Castiel's tie. She unbuttoned the top four buttons of his shirt, trying not to stare at the portion of his chest she'd exposed.

"This is what?" Sam asked.

Danielle flushed as she leaned over the unconscious angel, struggling to pull his arm out of his trench coat sleeve. She did the same with the other side, leaving him in only his suit.

"Team Free Will. One ex-blood junkie, a dropout with six bucks to his name, Princess Peach, and Mr. Comatose over here."

"That's not funny," Sam stated, and Danielle, for once, agreed. It made her stomach churn to think it was them plus a paralyzed drunk against all the angels and demons Heaven and Hell had to offer. She gingerly untucked Cas's shirt, going over to the sink and running a towel under the cold water.

"Never said it was," Dean remarked. "Everyone thinks we're going to say yes."

Danielle carefully kept her gaze on the angel, refusing to look up at the boys. She gently rubbed away the dried blood on his chin.

"Well, what if they're right?"

"They're not."

"Well, why would we, either of us, but ... I've been weak before," Sam mumbled, looking down at his shot glass.

"It's not gonna happen," Dean said, ending the conversation before Sam was finished.

He went over to the sink, and Danielle risked a glance up at Sam. Sam's brow furrowed, seeing the guilty expression she didn't know she was wearing. "Danielle ... do you think we'll say yes?"

Her heart hammered, and she looked down. "No, 'course not."

Dean set his glass in the sink, coming over and fixing Danielle with a skeptic stare. "Danny."

She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes. She felt so, so overwhelmed. "They'll never stop," she whispered hollowly. "They'll never stop hounding you two. They won't let you grow any older, they won't let you die, for as long as it takes. We're trying to ride this out, but we can't. Michael, Lucifer, they're both invincible. You can't say no for eternity," she ended in a soft whisper, looking up at the two of them.

She was not prepared the look of devastation on Sam's face, like she had just killed his dog. Dean, too, avoided her gaze, and her heart twisted.

"I'm not giving up," she protested.

"Well that's sure a hell of a lot what it sounds like," Dean retorted, almost as if he was disappointed in her. "We are only riding this out until we can find a way to kill one or both of them."

Danielle just shook her head, staring down at Cas. "They're invincible."

"Nothing's invincible!" Dean barked. "Dan, you can't give up on us. Not you. We've bent over backwards to do everything you wanted us to: we let you on missions, we put your family above the apocalypse, we risked our lives trying to save you countless times! The least you can do is not give up." Dean was stunned that Danielle would even _consider_ that possibility. He'd always thought that she believed in them; sometimes she looked at him as if he were her dad, or a god or something. In those times when she looked at him, he always got so confused. What had he done to make her idolize him? He couldn't save her family, he couldn't save her, he couldn't save his own brother for God's sake… All he had done is fail, and yet, she adored him.

And, never in a million years had he thought she didn't believe in him. That hurt a lot more than he was willing to admit. How long had she been thinking like this? Danielle had always been kind of a given; he'd look behind and she'd always be there, with her wide smile and messy curls, trying to take care of them. He'd come to envision her as his younger sister, and he felt betrayed that his sister thought along the same lines as all of their enemies.

Danielle sniffed, holding back her tears. She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Damn straight," he muttered, stalking past her and furiously flopping on his bed and turning his back to both of them.

Danielle guiltily glanced up at Sam, who frowned and avoided her gaze. He went over to one of the chairs, picking up one of the pillows Danielle had discarded and sitting down in the chair. He crossed his arms, his head falling back on the pillow as he closed his eyes.

Danielle stared down at Cas, for the first time feeling very, very alone. Her boys weren't supposed to get mad at her, not ever. They normally never had _time_ to get mad… Not after her family died, and they all got caught up in the apocalypse. Sam and Dean would fight with each other like cats and dogs, but Danielle would be there to cool the inflated egos and wounded prides.

But she'd let them down now, and she couldn't believe how stupid she'd been. For a second, she'd been selfish with Cas, crying and confessing to him she didn't think they'd hold out. And because her sweet Cas hadn't protested, she _actually _thought it would be okay to tell the boys… How stupid. They _needed_ her now, while the whole world was at their throats, cramming lies so far down their throats they couldn't take a breath without choking.

Danielle wiped Cas's face, hoping he would wake up. His pulse was still there, steady but faint. And that scared her. Her strong angel was lying unconscious on the bed, with only three clueless humans to take care of him.

They were all defeated. They were all exhausted; they'd all been through the meat grinder and somehow made it out. And they weren't even halfway done. Tempers were flaring and powers were fading, and they were all down in their spirits. Danielle closed her eyes, praying to her silent God, pleading with Him to reveal himself. They _needed _Him. Where had He been for the past few weeks; where was He now? Where was He in Catharage, when two _good people _had sacrificed themselves?

And, for the first time in years, Danielle felt her faith wavering. She opened her eyes, staring out at the dark room, hands trembling. She set the cold towel down on the bed, dropping her head in her hands. She allowed herself a moment of weakness, letting the tears pool in her eyes and drip over.

She was so, so confused.

* * *

**I am so excited guys. This is when the this whole story really starts to get going, in my opinion. All the good stuff starts happening (and this is when I finally got a feel for Danielle's character and learned how to write her in the proper way, haha!) I hope you guys liked! And for those of y'all wanting romance ... Next chapter. (; **

**imposter17: Better late than never! Thank you! (:**

**Guest: Yes, it is! But it's better that way, don't you think (; And I can't say I didn't like Anna; it really made me sad to see what she became, and I could understand her reasoning to kill Sam. ):**

**NotCrazyJustWeird97: I SWEAR you're physic. Gotta stop spoiling it for everyone, okay?! Hahaha (;**

**mamareadstomuch2: Well, now that you made your first review, I hope to see more! (: Thank you!**


	18. Puppy Love

**Chapter 17:**

**Puppy Love**

_"There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear …" – 1 John 4:18_

* * *

When Cas woke up in the middle of the night, he felt something lying across his stomach. He frowned, his head pounding. The blood rushing in his ears was accompanied by the sounds of someone's raspy breaths. He picked up his head, his vision swimming as he stared down at Danielle, who was sitting in a chair at his side. Her head rested beside his hip, and her wild hair was splayed out around her head like a halo, some of it covering his stomach, and the rest pooling out across the bedspread.

Something about her made his stomach knot up. He furrowed his brow at the strange feeling. Her face, angled towards him, was halfway covered with hair. Her mouth was open, and she was wheezing with every breath. Small beads of sweat were clinging to her hairline, and she looked pained.

Castiel stared at her as she slept, wondering why she looked so agonized. Maybe it had something to do with the troubles she was having breathing? Or maybe she was having a nightmare. He couldn't but theorize that maybe the thick curtain of hair over her face was the cause of it.

He reached forward and brushed her temple with the tip of his fingers. He frowned; her skin was so warm, much warmer than it should have been. He gently pushed her hair back, trying to not wake her up.

She stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She fixed her groggy stare on Castiel, who froze, hand hovering over her head. He waited for her to look away, like she normally did, but she didn't. In her half-asleep state, she just watched him, her eyes never peeling away.

Her brow furrowed as her body shuddered, a raspy cough making her slowly sit up and cover her mouth with her hand. She looked pale, but it could've just been how her skin looked in the green light from the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand right next to them.

"Scoot over," she whispered, standing up.

Castiel didn't quite understand what she wanted, but he obliged, moving over to the far side of the bed. She pulled the covers back, sliding under them and turning towards the angel.

She closed her eyes again, jerking on the blankets (he was lying on top of them) and pulling them up to her chin. She crossed her arms, letting out a long breath.

They stayed like that for a few seconds; Castiel staring at Danielle with a befuddled look, and Danielle lying with her eyes closed.

Finally, Danielle reopened her dark eyes, fixing them squarely on the angel. "What?" she breathed.

Danielle Samson did not stare, unless she thought you weren't looking at her. She looked at people with glances, always becoming uncomfortable if she locked gazes with someone for more than a couple of seconds. But, here she was, unabashedly staring straight at him. The fact that something was clearly ailing her totally dismissed itself from his mind, replaced with the shock of her intense gaze. "You're staring at me," he pointed out.

The corner of her lips flickered up. "_You're _staring at _me,_" she protested.

Castiel was in a situation he'd only come to be in a few times: he was at a loss of what to say. He was watching her because she was watching him because he was watching her watching him. It was very confusing, and it just made him all the more befuddled. "You look ill," he stated, impulsively saying the first thing on his mind.

"I've got a cold," she said. She coughed again, turning and burying her face in the pillow as her body shook. She rolled back onto her shoulder, watching the angel again. "I'm sorry for yesterday. I didn't mean to break down like that."

Castiel blinked. "You don't have to apologize."

Her expression changed to one of deep sorrow. Her eyes looked heavy, and her lips curled downwards in a frown. For a second, Castiel was worried that she might start crying again. A thrill of panic ran through him; would he be expected to hold her again?

And, almost as strong as the uncertainty, came a flood of want. He … _wanted _to hold her again. There was something about that day, when he'd held her, he felt so important. He'd never felt like that before. He'd never been important, not really. He'd been assigned tasks and missions that he'd carried out dutifully, but it's not like he was praised for what he did. None of the angels ever were.

So Castiel didn't know – until that moment – how breathtaking it felt to have someone praise you, need you, want you.

But it wasn't just his selfish wanting; it was him wanting her to be happy. He didn't like Danielle when she was sad or angry or upset; he wanted her – all of them, actually – to be happy.

"What is it?" Castiel asked.

Danielle blinked, rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling. "My face hurts," she said.

Castiel narrowed his eyes; he knew when she was lying. She avoided his gaze, her lips pulled down dangerously low. She swallowed and turned her head away from him. "You're lying," he pointed out.

Danielle looked so overwhelmed as she rolled her head back over to him. Under the blankets, she looked so small and her face was completely open and clear. Her dark eyes fixed on his eyes, reminding him of a deer. "Your eyes are pretty," she stated, changing the subject.

Castiel tilted his head to the side, furrowing his brow. "You're changing the subject."

"You almost didn't make it," she whispered, and Castiel was, once again, stunned by the look of concern and despair on her face. "Cas, you can't die. You _cannot die._"

"I'll try not to," came Cas's confused response.

"Promise me," Danielle demanded. Castiel hesitated; he couldn't promise that. He knew one of these days he would die, probably in some quiet sacrifice for her or the Winchesters. Danielle's hand shot out, and she clutched onto his arm. "_Promise_."

"I … promise," Cas eventually muttered, avoiding her gaze. He didn't like making empty oaths, especially not to her. She deserved the truth. Maybe it was the pain, or she was still half-asleep; she didn't realize what she was saying.

Speaking of dying… His thoughts travelled back to what Anna had said in the barn, about her death. He knew Dean had gone to the future – Danielle had told him bits and pieces of it – but she'd left out the part where she died.

"Do you die in the future?" he asked.

She fixed him with the same, melancholy stare. "Yeah. I get eaten."

Castiel scowled. She'd painted a very faint picture of her future self – a vampire, tall, lots of leather – but other than that, there was nothing to go off. He tried to imagine it, a Danielle that carried herself high, shoulders back and chin stuck out. Instead of walking briskly with her arms crossed, shoulders hunched over like she was folding in on herself, he imagined a Danielle that strutted, loping slowly around as she made eye contact with anyone who glanced at her.

It was very near impossible.

Even as they spoke, she was drifting off. Her eyelids fluttered close, and she sleepily smiled. "See you in the morning, Cas," she breathed, sinking slightly into the pillow.

Castiel glanced down at his arm; her fingers were still loosely fisted into the fabric of his coat. Just the simple touch was enough to make his vessel's heartbeat kick up. He wondered if he should move her hand, but he didn't want to wake her up.

So he laid there until morning came, hyper-aware of her fingers on his arm.

* * *

Two Days Later

Danielle sat in the motel room, dressed in only a tank top and Nike shorts, despite the fact it was the middle of winter. She was burning up and coughed a lung every five seconds.

Dean had gone to the morgue to examine the bodies, and Sam had gone to interrogate the victim's roommate, leaving Danielle behind … again. Things had been shaky lately, and she'd been walking on eggshells in an attempt to not make them angry at her again. Well, mostly to not make Dean angry; Sam was more just disappointed, and his morose glances made her heart heavy.

The door opened, and Danielle jumped, snapping her gaze up. Dean walked in, looking at her for just a second before looking away. Danielle sighed as he hung his nice FBI coat on the hook behind the door, going to the fridge and grabbing a beer.

"Feeling any better?" he grunted.

"Yep," Danielle returned, trying to hold back a cough.

He went over and flopped down on a bed, turning on the T.V. That was what their conversations had been limited to lately, and it made Danielle feel even worse in her sick state. She grabbed a Kleenex from the tissue box that had taken up permanent residence near her and blew her runny nose.

She tossed it in the trashcan, which was overflowing with used tissues, and turned back to Sam's laptop, where she was researching the couple that had eaten each other to death. It made Danielle feel squirmy just thinking about it.

Sam arrived a little later with food. "Hey," he greeted, avoiding Danielle's gaze.

"Hi," she croaked, her throat burning every time she spoke. "What'd you get?"

"Chicken for you, like usual," came the answer. He wasn't nearly as mad at Danny as Dean was, which was a relief. He set the food down in front of her, and she pushed away the laptop, shooting him a little smile.

"Do you feel better?" he asked, feeling her forehead.

"Not really," she confessed, not seeing Dean's eyebrows pinch together in irritation behind her.

"Well, I got you some medicine too," Sam stated, setting down a Walgreens bag in front of her. Danielle felt like she could cry; half from relief that she actually had painkillers, and half from relief that Sam had actually thought about her, and not in a negative way.

"Thank you, Sam," she said, meeting his sympathetic gaze with a smile.

"You just told me you were fine," Dean argued, standing up.

Danielle blanched, not turning around to face him. "I didn't want you to worry," she lied.

"Oh, so, it's okay for Sam to worry?" he demanded.

"You're mad at me!" Danielle protested, changing her argument.

"He's mad too!" Dean exclaimed.

"Not as mad as you are!" she argued, her head throbbing in pain. Sam handed her a drink, and she took it, downing four Advils. "He's at least talking to me!"

Danielle couldn't see Dean spread out his arms in exasperation and fix his brother with a bewildered gaze. "I'm talking to you right now!"

"No, you're yelling at me!" Danielle barked, raising her voice for the first time. She clenched her jaw as the boys stared at her in surprise. She shook her head, trying to swallow the anger that had been welling up in her for days now. "I messed up, okay? For a second, I got my spirits down because I was kidnapped by an angel and got my _butt kicked. _Because everything we have tried _hasn't worked. _We don't have a plan! You might not want to admit it, Dean," – she was standing up now, facing the brothers – "but we are so far up the freakin' creek without a paddle. For a second, I gave up, and I'm sorry, but _this is ridiculous. _We're at the ends of our days – the very literal _apocalypse _is going on outside, and you're not even talking to me? Any day now we could die, and you're busy … _sulking _and being angry with the world and losing your temper every five seconds-"

She broke off, wheezing as she fell into another coughing fit. She clutched onto the back of her chair, her face burning in embarrassment. Had she _really_ just chewed Dean out? When she finally finished, she didn't even look up, just sat back down and tore angrily into her chicken. She glowered at the food, unable to believe that she'd lost her temper _again. _What was going on with her?

"Uh," she heard Dean say behind her, but she ignored him. "I'm sorry, Dan."

Danielle's eyes widened in surprise; she had expected him to just carry on, albeit awkwardly. Not for him to actually apologize. "You don't have anything to be sorry for," she mumbled, exhausted from her speech.

Dean turned to his brother, feeling suffocated from the awkwardness of their situation. Danielle did not seek for drama like other girls; she usually ran the other way. Chick-flick moments were a no-no in her book, and Dean was thankful for that. So it made it all the more awkward when they were forced into drama like this.

"You find anything at the chick's house?" Dean asked after clearing his throat.

"Uh, no EMF, no sulfur. Demonic and ghost possession are both out." Sam sat down across from Danielle, turning the laptop towards him. "Did you find anything?"

Danielle just shrugged. "Both of them were fine; no police records, no nothing. The girl actually had some community service, volunteer awards stuff. She seemed really nice."

Sam snorted. "Danielle, she was _you._ Literally- no alcohol, goody-two-shoes. She still had her purity ring."

Danielle blanched, her eyes going wide. Dean sat down next to her, and she glanced nervously at him. "What if this thing is after good girls?"

Dean tried to disguise his laugh as a cough, taking a quick sip of his beer. Sam grinned, shaking his head. "I'll check some files, you can go."

Dean furrowed his brow, shooting his brother a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"Go. Unleash the Kraken. It's Valentine's Day. What do you call it? Unattached, drifter Christmas."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I dunno; I guess I'm just not feeling it this year."

Sam's brows pinched up in concern. "It's when a dog doesn't eat. That's when you know there's a problem."

"Wow, very patronizing concern, dully noted. Are we gonna work or not?" he snapped, tearing open the fast food bag and pulling out his bacon burger.

Danielle and Sam shared a look before going back to their separate duties.

Not much later, they got a call from the coroner about another "weird case". The painkillers had, thankfully, started kicking in, and Danielle felt good enough to follow along with the boys.

They had all the organs splayed out in front of them and were carefully studying them. Danielle was staring at a liver when Dean slid the tuber ware box containing a heart over to her, a ridiculously earnest expression painting his face. "Be my valentine?" he asked.

Danielle snorted in amusement. "Cute." She glanced at the heart before catching sight of something. "Wait a second," she demanded, snatching the box away from him and closely examining the organ.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"There's a … _marking _on this heart," Danielle realized, her face screwed up in complete confusion and horror. "It looks … almost Enochian."

Sam glanced at her heart and turned to the partner's heart. "It's on this one too," he pointed out.

Dean sighed, pulling out his cell phone and calling their angel. Danielle watched with increasing humor as the two boys struggled with Castiel's technology challenge.

"I know it's Valentine's Day, but you two can flirt later," Danielle teased, shooting the boys a wide smile. "Come look at this, Cas."

Castiel strode over to her, peering into the bucket. Danielle didn't move, her heart kicking up in her chest at his nearness. Their arms were brushing, and she glanced up at his gorgeous face, which was screwed up in concentration as he stared at the organ.

He reached in the box, picking up the heart before Danielle could stop him. She gave him a disgusted look while the blood dripped down on his fingers. As she stared at his hands, all she could think about was how he'd stayed all night the other night, when he'd woken her up in the middle of the night because _he was touching her face. _The significance of that moment had passed her in the moment, but, once she'd woken up for real, she couldn't seem to get over it. Her cheeks burned at just the memory.

And he seemed so genuinely concerned that night, and in the morning. He'd noticed how the brothers were avoiding her and she, in turn, was avoiding them. He'd tried to get her to confess to him what had happened, but she'd kept her lips shut, feeling the boys' gazes burning into her back. Add that to the whole sickness problem, and he wouldn't stop hounding her.

The one good thing that had come out of the whole fight was that Dean didn't get to tease her about sleeping in the same bed as Cas. While she was half-asleep, it seemed like a fine idea; they would share the bed, no big deal. But when she woke up and actually thought about it, she had blushed for a solid hour _at least, _even though it definitely wasn't like that.

Well… it wasn't, right?

Someone snapped their fingers in front of Danielle, and she jumped up at least three feet in the air, stumbling backwards and knocking into an examining table. The table rolled back, and she clung to it, sending a tray of medical tools to the floor. They clattered loudly, and she winced as her head pounded in protest.

Dean's loud laugh made her look up with wide eyes at Sam, who was looking slightly bewildered, fingers still up in the air. "Uh… You okay, Danny?"

"What-" Her eyes flitted over to Castiel, who was staring at her in concern. Her gaze fell away, and her cheeks burned scarlet. How long had she been spaced out, her thoughts so thoroughly occupied with the angel that she hadn't even heard the conversation? "Oh- Yeah, I'm fine, sorry." She dropped to her knees, picking up the tools and setting them back on the tray. She suddenly gripped the sides of the tray, sneezing all over the tools.

Sam screwed up his face. "That's not sanitary."

Danielle, panicking, took the tray and threw it into the sink. She snapped on the faucet, quickly trying to scrub the tools. With her luck, she accidentally sliced her finger on the scalpel.

"Oh my-" she exclaimed, snatching her hand back and cradling it against her chest. Blood welled up from the cut, and she sucked on the finger, gagging at the taste of rust.

"You gonna make it, princess?" Dean asked, grinning at her.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, bite me," she challenged, proud that she managed to use the Winchester catch phrase for once it her life.

"Are you okay?" Castiel demanded, stepping forward with a very … _intense _look on his face.

Danielle's heart sputtered in response, and she looked at Sam, at Dean, at the hearts on the table, refusing to meet his gaze. "Uh- I- Yeah, sure."

"So what all did you space out for?" Sam asked, an actual smirk on his face.

Danielle sheepishly smiled. "All of it?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Typical. C'mon, we'll fill you in on the way there!" He turned and sauntered out of the building. Castiel fixed her with a prying stare – which she avoided – before following Dean. Danielle glanced up at Sam, who hadn't moved a muscle. He was full on Cheshire-cat grinning her now.

"What?" she demanded, fidgeting under his stare.

"You _like_ him," he stated.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Danielle protested, though she could feel her cheeks darkening. "We gotta go, 'else Dean'll leave us." She headed towards the door, _feeling _Sam's gaze on her back, triumphant that he figured it out.

"So, how long have you liked him?"

"Liked _who?" _Danielle asked, feigning ignorance. She didn't like Cas. Not like that, no, no.

"You know who."

"You're reading into things, Sam," Danielle threw over her shoulder, proud of how nonchalant she sounded. Even _she _would believe herself. Not that she had anything to hide anyhow; she definitely _did not like Castiel._

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," he said in a singsong voice, walking around her and jogging to catch up with his brother. Danielle narrowed her eyes at his back and followed.

The car ride to the restaurant was uncomfortable – she felt like she was being examined from all angels- _angles. _Not angels, _angles. _

Danielle groaned, rubbing her temple. Her forehead was still cut up from the other night, and her black eyes had yet to go away. The only good thing was that her lips weren't swollen anymore. They were still cut up and bruised, not swollen.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Castiel asked – _again _– his earnest gaze boring into the side of her face.

She refused to face him, catching sight of Sam's wide smirk. She glared at the Winchester. "I'm fine," she stated, though her rising blood pressure said differently.

They finally made it to the restaurant, which was pretty crowded. It had its fair share of desperate women dressed in their best, hoping to catch some man's eye at the bar. Danielle glanced down at her plain long-sleeve shirt and jeans with a frown, feeling underdressed. She didn't compare at all to the women at the bar.

She noticed the table for four, and, in a split-second decision, maneuvered around Sam to slide into the booth next to Castiel. Just being near him made her heart beat a little faster, and she pressed her lips together to choke back a smile.

"So we're waiting for Cupid?" Danielle questioned after they ordered their meals.

"Yep," Dean retorted, rubbing his hands together. "We're gonna gank the little bi- _brat,_" he corrected after seeing Danielle's sharp glare.

"It's kind of romantic," she pointed out, smiling up at the Valentine's Day decorations all over the bar. "Not the killing part, but the Cupid part. I can't believe they really exist." She turned her gaze over to Castiel, who nodded.

"They've existed for as long as all the other angels," he stated matter-of-factly. What was so interesting about cherubs?

"Really? That's so cool," she breathed.

Castiel glanced down at her and did a double-take at her adoring gaze. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable, looking to Sam and Dean for help. Sam quickly took a sip of his drink, trying his hardest not to laugh, and Dean was staring at Danielle with a look of strong suspicion.

Danielle's brow furrowed, and she leaned back. She looked away from Castiel, mouthing, "Did I really just say that?" Alarm made her heart stutter in her chest, and she suddenly felt like she was suffocating. She had just sounded like a love-struck _idiot, _and she _didn't even like Cas!_ She picked up a menu and started fanning herself. "Good night, it's hot in here."

"I'll say!" Sam agreed, smirking at Danielle, who glared.

She shot Castiel a glance before holding up her menu in front of her face, blocking his vision. "Stop it!" she mouthed to Sam.

He picked up his menu as well, blocking Dean from view. "Admit it," he mouthed back.

She clenched her jaw, fixing him with a desperate glare as Dean snatched Sam's menu away from him. "Can we act like adults here, please?" he demanded.

"Oh, you're one to talk," Danielle and Sam said at the same time.

Dean, looking offended, fixed both of them with a stony glare before the waitress stepped up, setting plates of food in front of all of them except Cas. Danielle dug in, happy for the distraction.

Dean soaked his burger with ketchup before staring at it dejectedly. He sighed, dropping his napkin on the table and pushing it away, untouched.

"Dean," Danielle stated in alarm. First no women, now no burgers? What next, he was gonna give up alcohol?

"What, I'm not hungry!" he defended, sitting back in his chair.

"Are you going to finish that?" Castiel asked, not waiting for an answer before he reached over the table and stole the plate.

"Cas!" Danielle exclaimed in even more alarm.

He dug into the burger, a _smile_ flickering across his face. "This is _very_ good," he commented, holding up the burger as if to show Dean.

The warning bells ringing in Danielle's head were chased away, replaced with the thoughts of how _adorable _the angel looked. She smiled, watching him as he tucked into the burger.

He suddenly stiffened, glancing up at the bar. "He's here."

All of them turned, half-expecting to see a man dressed in diapers. "Where?" Sam asked. "I don't see anyone."

The decorations hanging from the ceiling swayed, as if they were in a breeze. Danielle glanced at the doors, wondering if a draft had followed someone as they entered, but the doors were shut. A napkin blew across the room, gently plastering itself to an Asian man's cheek.

"There," Castiel stated as the man batted away the napkin and suddenly started making out with the girl next to him.

Danielle's heart swelled watching them. "That is so beautiful," she remarked, watching them with wide eyes. That couple was _so lucky. _They had a partner, someone who cared about them no matter what. One only had to look at them to see the love they shared for each other.

"Meet me in the back," Castiel ordered before disappearing.

Danielle hardly noticed- she was too busy watching the couple. "I just want that for me, y'know?" she commented, propping up her head on her hand almost dreamily.

"Okay, let's go, Juliet," Dean stated, brow furrowed in confusion as he grabbed Danielle's arm and _literally _pulled her out of the grill and to the back.

Castiel was standing in the back, hand held up. They all glanced around in confusion. "So… where is he, Cas?" Dean asked.

"I have him tethered." Castiel delved into Enochian, and Danielle let out the single _girliest_ giggle any of them had ever heard. Sam and Dean's brows furrowed, and they glanced at the girl, who was blushing and grinning at her feet. It was so strange to hear from her that it even surprised Cas, making him fumble over his words and throw a perplexed glance over his shoulder. "Manifest yourself," he finished.

"Where is he?" Dean asked again, turning and looking around.

"Here I am!" came the cheerful response as a man appeared behind him, wrapping his thick arms around Dean's midsection and picking him up off his feet as he hugged him from behind.

* * *

**Oh Danny. Oh, sweetheart, you just need to go home. I can't tell y'all how much this chapter made me laugh writing it. Oh gosh, I just cannot with these two haha! **

**Fire and Ash: Aww, thank you! I'm glad you liked it! (:**

**mamareadstomuch2: Yes, romance! *aggressive fist bump in the air***

**NotCrazyJustWeird97: Haha, you're already thinking that far ahead? LOL, I love it! XD **


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